Baited: Sign of Shadows
by Edwards-Ebed
Summary: With tension high on the table, the brothers try to return to normal; but not everything can stay in the shadows for long. As nightmares and hallucinations become worse, separating reality from fantasy may not be the only concern. Wincest
1. MrJOY

**Baited: DIABOLO-NUMBER #666**

I'm baaaaack. After the lovely success of _Baited_, I decided to give in to popular demand for the first time ever and write a sequal.

**NOTE:** _You don't have to have read the original for this to make sense. This sequal can be a stand-alone._

Granted, some things will make sense if you've read the first one, but you don't have to read it if you haven't already. Also note, I do respond to all reviews - always have, always will. So, if you want to ask me something (like you didn't understand something or anything), go ahead and ask it, because I'll get back to you. Plus, I love discussing _Supernatural_, whether it's the most recent episode, an older episode or just Jensen and Jared (and Misha - gotta throw him in). So...yeah.

Anyway! I won't keep you any longer, so enjoy it after the disclaimer!

**Disclaimer**: All I own is the plot and some character names.

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><p><strong>1<strong>

**Mr. JOY**

There was a loud shriek that pierced through the night air from the inside of a factory basement. A loud crash followed as a figure collided into metal debris, groaning as they fell down the pile, serrated pieces falling on and around them. A moment of distraction was all that the creature needed to take advantage of the disarray and jump up onto a pipe before hoisting itself up and out of an opened window a few feet above its head. A few shots were fired, hitting the wall around it, the bullets ricocheting off and falling to the floor. They cursed and dropped the gun to their side, running over to the fallen hunter.

"Shit, Sam!"

Sam rolled over, some of the debris falling off of him. "I'm fine, go!"

He pushed Dean away. He barely nodded, turning and following after the creature they had finally found after three days. He pulled himself onto the pipe, balanced himself, and then grabbed the edge of the window to pull himself out. He landed on his stomach at the end of the three foot drop, groaning and cursing at the creature, which was not even it sight. Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled slightly before recovering his balance as he ran through the surrounding storage buildings and factory crates. He stopped short, panting as he looked around. The silence that surrounded him would prove to be useful, since it would allow him to hear the slightest bit of movement; however, as he stood there for a minute, he hit the realization that the creature already made its escape.

He cursed again, hitting the ground with the sole of his shoe before turning away to return back to the factory basement to check on Sam. He kept his ears tuned in for any odd movements or sounds, but there was nothing as he made his way to the same window – the same one they had used to get into the basement in the first place. He crawled back in, dropping down to the pipe, then to the floor. He slipped the gun back under his jacket, walking to Sam, who was pulling pieces of broken metal from his shoulder. He glanced up as Dean made his way over.

"You get him?"

"Does it look like I got him?" Sam frowned at the annoyance laced in Dean's tone and went back to focusing on getting the pieces out of his skin. "All that work and for what? To lose'em in less than an hour? Well, wasn't this a waste of time." He gave himself a moment to calm down, watching Sam, who was not even paying him the slightest bit of attention. His eyebrows raised as Sam pulled a two-inch long piece out of his arm, stared at it for a second, and then threw it back into the pile. He tossed his arms down and looked up at his brother, who reached down to help him up: Dean could not help but look at the now-fresh wounds on Sam's shoulder, blood disappearing into the fabric of his jacket. "Why is it that you always get the cool battle scars?"

Sam just stared at him in disbelief. "So sorry. Next time I'll take that into consideration before I save your ass." Dean gave him a cocky smile, making Sam roll his eyes. He laughed at Sam's sneer and slapped him on the shoulder blade as they went to exit the building. When he stepped, though, a sharp pain shot down Sam's side and he released a shout from surprise, drawing Dean's full attention. He turned his head to see what had caused the pain and saw a small piece of metal sticking out between his back ribs. Dean had him turn and touched the metal, causing Sam to jerk. When Dean gripped it, Sam made a quick step away from him. "Dude, don't just pull it out!"

Dean groaned and grabbed Sam's shoulder, purposely having him cringe from the other wounds. "Fine. We'll take care of it at the motel."

"Thank you."

The tone was sarcastic.

"Goddamn it. You are such a girl."

o-o-o-o-o

Sam's hand was clenched into a tight fist, his eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore the pain that was coming with Dean pulling the serrated metal from under his ribs. A warm cloth was in Dean's hand right above it, ready to cover it once it was out; yet, as he started removing it, it was apparent that the piece was not quite as small as it had initially appeared. His eyes quickly moved to Sam's face, whose expression had not changed. Slowly, he pulled it out, immediately holding the cloth over it as blood began to seep out. He held it out to Sam.

"Want a souvenir?"

Sam frowned. "I'm good, thanks."

Dean tossed it on the nightstand between the beds. Sam reached his hand back to hold the cloth in place when Dean got up to get the tape and gauze from the bag sitting on the other bed. When he walked back to Sam after retrieving the items, his eyes quickly glanced to the scar on Sam's abdomen; six months later and his stomach still dropped at the sight, but, for the most part, they were both doing well to ignore it. He pulled his attention away before Sam noticed and went back to his brother's side, dressing the wound. Once he was wrapped, Dean tossed the items back in the bag and hit Sam on the shoulder, having the other clamp on his jaw before giving him a nasty glare; Dean responded with a smirk. Sam brought his arm back and shoved Dean back, then stood up to walk into the small restroom.

"Awe, come on, Sammy. Not even a thank you?"

Sam turned back to look at his brother's plastic disheartened expression. He put on a smile to match it. "Wow. Thank you so much, Dean! What would I do without you?"

When Dean's look fell to a frown at the sarcasm, Sam's chest vibrated in a silent chuckle. "Shut up and go primp yourself, you damn drag queen," Dean sneered as he threw the closest object, which happened to be the remote to the television, at the other. Sam shook his head, tossed the remote back to him and disappeared into the bathroom. Dean released a loud groan the threw himself back on the bed, bouncing on the mattress as he tossed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He heard the shower turn on and released a breath.

For the next few moments, he just listened to Sam in the bathroom, quietly wondering if the wrappings would hold up or come loose under the water. His thoughts began wandering elsewhere when he saw the mental image of the scars on Sam's upper body, two of which he had been the one to cause, and tensed, shaking his head to try and get rid of the thought. He inhaled, releasing it in a quick breath. Six months later and they still were not any closer to finding any leads on the demon that had caused it all in the first place; each lead they thought they garnered only wound up at a dead end, frustrating them further. The plus side was that the dreams and nightmares waned as time progressed; but when they did occur, they were just as prevalent as ever – not that they told each other that.

Shadows in the dark.

Occasionally, it would occur to both of them on the same night: the only evidence was whenever one of them was torn from sleep, they would see the other up and about, claiming it insomnia. Regardless, questions were never asked and answers were never pressed, no matter how poorly each other lied about it. However, a couple of months ago, Sam woke up in a cold sweat, panting and shaking with Dean leaning over him, concern flooding his features as he managed to pull Sam out of sleep. Dean could still remember the look in Sam's eyes as he stared back at him, gauging whether or not he was real or still dreaming, and then the relief that swarmed him once realization set in. Of course, once he was aware of what was going on, he pushed Dean away from him, saying he was fine to the disbelieving look of his brother; yet, as usual, neither one pushed it. The eldest joked about the revelations less and less as time went by, the subject slowly growing back to its original taboo state. For some reason, though that was what both had said they wanted, it made even usual pats on the shoulder feel and seem awkward.

The sound of the shower curtain being shifted in the bathroom momentarily pulled him out of thought. The clock on the table in between the two beds was shining eleven twenty-three, which burrowed the thought of it still being early into his head. Still early enough to hit up a bar and maybe have a little fun before morning rolled around. Using his arms to toss himself up, he rolled off of the bed, crossed the room and started shifting clothes around in a bag. Managing to find what he was looking for, he pulled out a long-sleeve black shirt and tossed it on the bed, turning back. Stripping himself of his jacket and tossing it next to the shirt, he turned his back to the bed, facing the bag again as he removed his dirt-stained shirt. Just as it was pulled over his head, the bathroom door clicked open.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Sam holding his hand over his stomach; a jolt shot to his heart and he jerked when blood could be seen dripping down his brother's abdomen, but when he spun around to aid him, the image was gone and the only thing he saw was Sam giving him an odd look.

"What?" he asked, shaking his head and moving to where his own bag lay on the other bed.

Dean shrugged and tossed his shirt on top of the bag before going back to get the other he had put on the bed. "Nothing." He slipped it on, pulling it down to cover his stomach and over the band of his jeans. He watched as Sam took out and threw some clothes over the chair in the corner, not appearing to actually change into them. "Hey, I'm goin' out for a drink. Up for it?"

Sam faced him, gripping the towel around his waist to keep it from sliding down. "Yeah. Just let me change." Dean nodded and went into the bathroom to clean up and allow Sam to change.

The bar, a few drinks and getting rid of some "excess" tension was right up the alley of what he needed, and he was quite certain Sam was in need to do the exact same thing.

o-o-o-o-o

The bar was full, people chatting loudly due to intoxication; others were trying to be heard over them just to get their orders to the on-floor servers and bartenders. Sam and Dean weaved their way in and out between people to get to a high-round table that was open against a separator in the middle, separating booths. As with typical bars, the bar was dimly lit, playing into the psychological effect of lingering, which appeared to be working quite well, seeing as how many of the people were well past their third and fourth drinks. A group of college students were doing shots at a group of tables they had pushed together to form for their large party, being loud and yelling as they continued to get each other to drink more.

They settled in to two of the three stools at the table, practically in unison setting their feet on the bar under stool to keep them from dangling. As one of the servers passed by, Dean grabbed their attention to ask for two beers; she quickly disappeared after a smile to get their drinks, and probably a few others. Once she vanished into the crowd, he turned back towards Sam, bringing his head to face him last. With a heave of the shoulders and a sigh, he had to speak up to be heard.

"Guess we'll go at it again tomorrow," he said, referring to the hunt. "If only someone could manage to keep up, this time."

"Dean…." Sam looked at him sympathetically. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You just have to run faster."

Dean sneered at the insult being turned around, to which Sam smirked. He took a good look around the bar, scanning for anyone eligible – easy, detached, somewhat or completely drunk. The server came back not a moment later, setting to House Drafts on the table. Before either one of them was even able to thank her, she was gone and seen grabbing empty bottles and glasses from other tables. Quickly raising his brows, Dean grabbed the glass and took a swig; the alcohol settled uneasily in his stomach, reminding him that he had not eaten since early that afternoon. At least it would make it easier to get to the drunken state he was desperate to get to tonight.

He snorted at the thought along with another drink.

"So, I'm thinking we check the Morrison's out again – I still think the mother knows something." Dean only nodded at Sam's statement, staring at the liquid in his glass instead of glancing up. "Or we could get hammered, find some drunk chicks and get laid."

Dean looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together, about to comment until he saw Sam started to laugh. At the reaction, the eldest frowned. "Awe, don't tease me like that, Sammy. I was hoping you were going to cross over to the Darkside. I need a wingman."

Sam nearly spit out his beer, forcing himself to swallow it before releasing a laugh in a breath. "You? Need a wingman?" he asked in disbelief, to which Dean shrugged.

"Thought I'd give you a chance, but, nope. The moment's gone." Sam rolled his eyes when Dean shook his head in disappointment. "I don't want to talk about the case or the fact we got our asses handed to us tonight. I just want to sit here, have a few beers and relax." He paused as he brought the drink back up. "And get laid." Another drink. "Maybe that's what you need to get that hair out of your ass." In the middle of chugging half of it, his eyes moved to look at Sam, who was no longer looking at him and, instead, was drinking his beer while staring down at the table. Dean brought his glass down, shaking his head. "Shit…Sam—"

"Dude, it's whatever." The response he received was a sympathetic look. "Seriously, it's not that big of a deal."

The air between them lay thick with silence, leaving them both to drink their beers; Dean appeared a bit more eager to get to a drunken state that night, whereas he chugged it down and thumped the empty glass on the table. When the same server was within earshot, he called her back over and asked for another drink. It was different, but Sam's ears were unable to pick up what he said. As she walked away with the empty beer glass in tow, Dean leaned on the table towards Sam, his grin back on his face.

"I'll have to be honest with you, Sammy. Before the night's over, I wanna have my ass carried out of here."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I can rearrange that. Just give me something heavy." Dean's lip curled as Sam laughed. The server came back and dropped off Dean's drink, which ended up being half a glass of Guinness with a shot of Irish whiskey and liqueur. He nodded thanks and barely had time to tell her a Blue Moon before she was gone once again. Despite barely speaking with anything other than an "okay", she was efficient, which is what a full house called for. He picked up the Guinness and shot, hovering the shot glass over the beer as he looked to Sam with a smirk: the response he received was an eye roll as Sam took a swig of his own. He dropped the shot into the glass and swallowed it down as it foamed, then nearly slammed the glass on the table.

"C'mon, Sam! Have some fun or I'm going to make you down a Bloody Tampon."

"Right. No sooner than anyone can get you to take a Hot Mexican Hooker."

"Hey, not a bad idea. Get a few Mexican hookers over here and really make this a party."

They exchanged expressions.

The server came back, this time a little less frantic. She took a breath and smiled at them. "Sorry about the runaround, earlier. Had to get caught up."

Dean shook his head. "Not a problem." The usual flirtatious grin was back on his face.

"Yeah, well, normally I'm a bit more people-friendly. But with Spring Break starting at the college, we're getting a lot more business. So, I haven't seen you two in here before and I'm pretty good with faces." Her eyes darted to Sam. "Pretty sure I'd remember you guys. Where are you from?"

Dean's eyes followed the server's gaze to Sam, who merely shrugged. "Everywhere and nowhere," he replied, a small smirk growing at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, the Mystery Duo. Well, Green Eyes, what else can I get for you?" Her eyes were on Sam's nearly empty glass.

He stared at it in his hand. "Uh…yeah."

"Make it two Car Bombs, then," Dean cut in.

She nodded, still smiling. "You've got it."

o-o-o-o-o

An hour-and-a-half later, Sam barely had a buzz and was drinking enough just to keep it going. Dean had already downed more than enough to give reason to his pointless laughter and overly joyous attitude. Between hitting on just about every female that walked by, including some of the college students, and making a fool of himself in the process, he drove off one of the students that had been hitting on Sam. However, when some of the guys around the bar dropped by the table, they had Dean in a drinking competition, which evened out after doing five whiskey shots in a row. At the current moment, he was rocking the stool back on two legs, his hands keeping him balanced by holding onto the table. Empty shot glasses littered the table and, as one of the other guys slammed down a shot glass, laughter erupted from their throats.

"Hey! We need another round!" one of them called over the noise in the bar. They exhaled a laugh and looked to Dean. "What was it you said you and your friend were here for?"

Sam looked at Dean from across the table with his arms crossed over his chest. Dean let the chair fall back into place. "Just driving through, seemed like a – a fun place." His words were slurred slightly, but he was always able to hold his alcohol well, even when he was already wasted.

"Well"—one of the others spoke loudly, probably from having more alcohol running through his system than Dean—"doesn't seem like he's havin' much fun," they said, knocking their scrawny elbow into Sam's arm. Sam faked a smile, which wound up looking more like a sneer.

Dean scoffed at Sam's attitude. "Oh, he's having fun; ain't that right, Sammy?"

"Yeah." He watched Dean pick up his half-empty Pig Stout. "Always."

Dean nodded as he swallowed, putting the glass back down on the table. "As fun as this is, Nature calls." He pushed the chair back and got down from it. As he passed by Sam, he patted him on the shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'd never dream of it."

He chuckled as he walked away, steps uneasy from the alcohol, and disappeared into the crowd towards the restrooms. Sam picked his glass back up to take a swig, but nearly spilled it all over the table when one of the other guys knocked him on the back. He set the glass on the table, showing his annoyance; the people around the table did not seem to pick up on it. One of the guys grabbed the set down glass, leaving Sam to sigh in aggravation; but when he shifted to reach for it, they pulled it out of his reach while the stockier guy to Sam's right gripped his shoulder.

"Come on, Sammy. Loosen up. You're among friends."

Sam shrugged the guy's hand off and watched the guy holding his beer chug it down. They put it back on the table, the sound of the empty glass clanging on the wood bounced around them. Sam stared at it. The guy that had initially involved Dean in the drinking completion, who, oddly enough, had a similar build to his brother, kicked his friend from under the table.

"Hey, knock it off and stop being a jackass. Go get him another beer." They just stared back at him, their swimming eyes slowly taking in what their friend said. "Do it or your walking your ass back to the house." They groaned, called them a dick and left to go to the bar; the servers that had been on the floor were difficult to find. "Sorry about him – he's a prick when he drinks." They sloshed their own beer in their glass, and then took a swig.

"Sounds like someone else I know." He smirked and the guy laughed. "What was your name, again?"

He caught him in the middle of drinking, and the guy made a throaty noise as he swallowed. "Ah, it's Gai." Sam raised his eyebrows. Seeing the expression, the guy nodded his head. "It's a nickname. Don't ask." He took another drink, obviously not fond of his own name.

"Wasn't gonna."

Gai laughed.

"I like you, Sam. You're okay in my book."

At that moment, the other guy came back with two beers: one for himself and one for Sam. He practically threw Sam's on the table, making it hit the wood with unnecessary force; the liquid sloshed over the rim, dripping down the glass. Sam did not bother thanking him and, instead, just picked up the glass and downed half of it. "So, let me ask you something, Sam," Gai started as he watched him. Sam nodded over his glass to give the okay. "Have you fucked him, yet?"

He snapped his head to stare at him, meeting his eyes with furrowed brows.

"_What?_"

The other two at the table turned to look right at Sam as he continued to just stare back in shock and awe.

"Damn. I leave for five seconds and you suddenly decide to get wasted on me." Sam turned to look at Dean approach the table. Sam watched him as her came around and reclaimed his seat across from him, nearly falling into it. His eyes quickly darted to Gai, who had gone back to drinking his beer.

Sam forced out an odd laugh, looking at his half-gone glass. "Yeah." He watched as Dean picked his Stout back up, brought it to his mouth and picked right back up where he left off. "I'm thinking about heading back."

That attracted Dean's attention. He looked from Sam to his glass. "Already?" Sam merely shrugged. "All right. Let me just kill this off and I'll go."

"Awe. You two are gonna just up and leave the fun?" the scrawny guy to Sam's right said in a higher voice, their intoxication blatant. "Party killers, man. Party. Killers."

Dean glanced at the guy, then to Sam – his look became curious when he saw the apprehension in his brother's downward-cast eyes. There was a loud bang as he slammed his glass on the table, liquid still filling it about a quarter; it garnered the tables' attention, everyone looking at Dean who has his head facing his lap.

"On second thought…." He slowly brought his head up, eyes meeting Sam's, a cockeyed grin on his face, one eye smaller than the other. "I think I'm cutting myself off." He leaned back and reached in his pocket, rummaging around before pulling his hand out and tossing something to Sam; he caught them without even having to look up. "You good to drive?" The response was a nod. "Awesome. Well"—he pushed the stool back and stood up—"it's been one hell of a good time, guys, but I think we're gonna call it a night."

Sam pushed back his own stool to follow suit, shoving his hands and the keys into his jacket pocket.

"Fine," Gai said, his peripheral following Sam's movements to stand next to his brother. "Maybe we'll catch you all tomorrow night?" He sent a casual smile to Dean, who nodded, head swimming and forming tunnel vision.

"Maybe…depends who's buying rounds," the oldest Winchester laughed as he hit Sam on the chest. "Let's go, Sam, before I change my mind." He nodded to Gai and the others as he turned to leave, Sam following right behind him.

They had to stop by the bar and pay off the tab, which ended up being less than what they thought it was going to be. Granted, it was probably due to a glitch, but why complain? Once it was paid off, they they maneuvered their way back through the bar, which was still full of college students and others in their mid to late twenties; they were told to have a good night by any servers they passed. The cool air outside was a nice greeting, the scent fresh and not full of booze and cigarettes. There were a handful of people outside, other college students looking to sober up before trying to drive home. They were talking and laughing, not paying any attention to the two hunters exiting the bar. The Impala sat alone in the back of the gravel lot and Dean was trying to avoid stumbling into other cars as they made their way to it. When they got to the car and Dean walked to the passenger side, after Sam had to push him away from the driver's door that he had gone to out of habit, Dean propped his arms on the hood of the car, peering at Sam on the other side.

"So why the lame bailout? What? You didn't want to get wasted? Because I"—he turned his head to the side as a loud belch came up from his throat before turning back to Sam—"did not wanna be able to walk this well." He smirked at the frown he was given.

Sam just raised his brows and released a breath, hands returning to his pockets and left hand feeling for the keys. "Just tired," he said with a shrug. "And I was not about to have to carry your sorry ass back to the motel."

Dean held his fist in front of his mouth. "Hold that thought."

He pulled away from the car and stumbled over to the bushes lining the fence surrounding the parking lot, retching as his body decided it did not want to process the excess alcohol. Sam rolled his eyes and pushed off the vehicle, opened the door and sat inside to start it up. He could see Dean through the passenger's window, still hunched over as another wave expelled more from his stomach. Sam could not help but find himself laughing at his brother and, as though Dean knew he was laughing, he could hear Dean groaning for him to shut up.

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><p>Yeah...like I said: some of the stuff will make sense if you read the original, but you don't have to. I just don't like things being OOC, and things that happened in the first are the reason for the brothers' reactions in this. But, blah. Well, that's all for now, folks! If you like it and you want me to continue, let me know!<p> 


	2. Black Fairy

So, this took a bit longer to post than I had originally anticipated. I know where I want to go, just gotta find a way to get there. Heh heh. This chapter's a lil'...odd, for lack of better terms, but it plays a key role in what I would like to accomplish with this.

Side note: I did realize I can't spell "sequel" to save my soul. xD

Let me just say that I'm glad to have you all back! **SPN Mum**, gotta carry over that tension, right? :D I can say that it won't be the last time that character comes into play (Gai). Perhaps minute, perhaps not. Guess we'll see. -snicker- Gotta love that brotherly bond, eh? I'm sure Dean will pick up on it...well...hm... Besides: Booze + Dean = Gonna Happen. Lol. Ah...Dean...such a predictable character. To **Ice Dragon3**, I would like to point out that this one is probably going to start out a little slower than _Baited_ (considering that jumped right into it). Hope that doesn't bother you all too much. -^-^-

**Twinchester Angel**, it was because of you all the reason I wrote a sequel! Seriously - normally, I'd just drop it off and say what's done is done, but I didn't wanna do that to you all, this time. Good thing about this one, though, is that "hallucinations" are gonna be interesting to work with. Dreams and the like, too. The question is how much are they seeing and how much is manipulating them into seeing it? Heh heh. And did Gai really say it... Hm...I'll let you all ponder on that. ;D Glad _Baited_ did a number on your brain. Love the questioning - love it, love it, love it. ASAP was a lil' late! I knows... Well, I won't annoy you anymore with this respond and I'll let you read!

Oh, and to **Killingdanse**, I think you may have me confused with someone else. I've never written a _Criminal Minds_ fic in my life - even though I love the show. Plus, you can't tag a genre after ONE chapter. Just because it's not jumping straight into it like the original _Baited. _Also, there is more action. In the first installment, there was no demon chasing, it was just about getting away alive. This one, they're actually hunting things. So...yeah. I don't think I'm the person you're thinking of.

**Disclaimer**: I own the plot and a few characters, but not the Winchesters, _Supernatural_ or anything relating to said show.

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><p><strong>2<strong>

**Black Fairy**

Blood dripped down Sam's shoulder as he inhaled sharply, eyes clamped shut tight as the knife was dug in deeper and twisted harshly. His back arched against the metal pipe, trying his best to hold back a shout that was begging to escape from his throat. When the weapon was pulled out, he collapsed, panting, sweat pouring down his temple as he tried to force his eyes open to stare back at the attacker.

He was met by his brother's green eyes.

"Awe. What's wrong, Sammy?"

Sam did not respond, his eyes staring back with a shimmering glaze.

"Don't give me that look – you really have no idea what that does to me."

Sam shook his head, his eyelids drifting heavy. "Dean…."

He crouched down and brought his hand up, running his left hand through Sam's hair. His eyes were sadistically soft. "You have no clue how badly I want to fuck you, do you? And down here, we have all the time in the world."

A sudden blur went by and Dean was tackled to the ground. A few punches were thrown as he tried to get the attacker off of him, but he wound up getting pinned to the cement floor, a silver 9mm pressing against his throat. He was looking back at himself, furious eyes glaring into his own.

"You stay the hell away from my brother," the image on top of him growled in a low voice.

The one that had been attacking Sam grinned, their eyes flashing black. Dean pressed the pistol harder against his throat, digging it in; all they did was respond with a laugh. "I'm only doing what you want, Dean." Dean brought the handle of the pistol up, slamming it down against their face – still, they just laughed. "Deny it all you want, but you can't hide it from yourself." In one swift move, they knocked the other's hand out of the way, the gun flying across the room, making Dean move back to his feet, stepping in front of his brother's injured form. They climbed to their own, image changing to a familiar face. "I mean, look at that," he said, motioning to Sam; Dean glanced over his shoulder to him. "You and I both know that's a turn-on for you. His eyes looking up at his big brother, needing him, wanting him."

"You're a sick fuck."

"Not as sick as you," Belial said, a grin back on his face. Dean released a loud shout as he pulled out a knife, lunging at the demon; but he vanished by the time he reached him. His eyes tore through the scene, trying to find him. He received his answer when Belial appeared behind him. In an instant, he spun around, but Belial grabbed the knife from him and moved back, just out his reach. "Look at that. I've already done you a favour." He looked over his shoulder at Sam's now limp figure; blood poured from his slit throat, disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

-o-o-o-o-

Dean groaned as he rolled over, shoving the pillow over his head as light came streaming in through the partially-opened windows. His head pounded as the light seeped in through his closed lids and another groan escaped from his throat as he tried to diffuse all seeable light. He barely even remembered making it back to motel; then again, he did not even remember making it back to the motel at all. The realization set in and made him throw the pillow off and untangle himself from the covers, which he had somehow wrapped around himself like a cocoon. He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his brain continued to pound against his skull. He rubbed his eyes, stretching out. When he turned his head to look at the adjacent bed, he noticed it was empty.

Curiosity rising, he sat up and arched his neck to look towards the restroom. There was no light coming from underneath a shut door, proving that Sam was not in the room at all. He tossed the covers off of him, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, cursing as his body fell way to a hangover. The last thing he remembered was stumbling his way back to the Impala after expelling some of the alcohol from his system; after that, his mind went blank. More than likely, he had passed out in the car and had to be dragged back into the motel by Sam, who was probably saying obscenities the entire time.

Statistical probability: ninety percent.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he could not help but glance at his reflection in the mirror: his eyes were red and he was still in the same clothes from last night; the scent of alcohol and vomit made him nauseated and he was desperate to get rid of the smell. Once the shower was turned on and set to the appropriate temperature, he shut the door and practically tore off his clothes; the shower was still cold when he stepped in, which garnered a swear as he stepped backwards, only keeping his foot under the water to know once it was up to temp. As he did start to wash up, and get rid of the horrible scent, his mind tracked back to the dream; another one that he could vividly remember and was wishing he could not. In the dreams, if it was not Belial harming Sam in his form, he was doing it himself. That nagging feeling that Sam was still not being completely honest with what had happened kept biting at the walls of his mind.

All those times he would wake up in the middle of the night, only to find Sam already awake were a big enough hint to what happened. Either way, he stayed tight-lipped; not that Dean was any more open about what woke him up.

How long would they be able to keep this charade up?

His head pounded from a combination of the thoughts, lights and he would have liked to ignore the fact that it was mainly due to having a hangover.

By the time he was getting out of the shower, the water had already run cold. Dried off, he stepped out of the bathroom, the white towel wrapped around his waist. Just as he began sifting through his duffel bag for clothes, the motel door opened revealing Sam carrying a generic, plastic bag; he shut the door behind him.

"How you feel?" he asked, setting the bag on the bed closest the door once he was by it. He slid off his jacket, watching Dean pull out jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.

"Like I've been hit by a truck." Sam laughed lightly. Dean looked back to him, motioning towards the bag. "What's with the bag?"

"Oh." He glanced down to it, as though just registering it was there. "Food. Gas station a few streets down," he answered the unasked question, to which Dean nodded.

"You walk?"

"Yeah. Also." He took out a rolled up newspaper and tossed it face-up on the bed. His brother came over, looking at the headline, his eyebrows rising. "So much for talking to the Morrison's again. I'm thinking we head over and see what really happened."

"Ah, perfect way to start the morning. Guess that means we get to go formal today – better make that food to go."

o-o-o-o-o

Sam put the box back into the glove compartment, keeping out two Federal identification tags. He handed one to Dean, closing the black wallet and putting the other one in his back pocket. Dean mimicked his brother's actions, then gazed out of the windshield to the Impala, staring at the three story house that was blocked off with police tape with officers standing outside on the lawn; police cars were parked in front of the house and across the street. Dean inhaled, his shoulders dropping.

"Now this is going to be fun," he said, looking at Sam, who just gave him a sarcastic look as a response.

Dean grinned and opened the door, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. Sam was quick to follow. He had to fix the jacket on the black suit as they crossed the street to the house. Just as they crossed under the police tape, they were stopped by an officer that appeared to be in their mid-forties. All they had to do was flash the badges and he let them by. Once they were actually inside the house, it took no time at all to find the commander in charge of the investigation. As they approached him, they took note that there was nothing in the main foyer; no disarray, no blood, nothing on the walls (other than some framed photos on eggshell-coloured paint), nothing that would suggest any foul play – mortal or other.

"So what went on here?" Dean asked the commander, eyes tracing the foyer and moving into the adjacent living room.

The commander knitted his eyebrows at them. "Who are you?" In sync, Sam and Dean took out their identification badges, held them up and showed their Federal badges. "FBI? This isn't a Federal case."

They put their badges back into the pockets of their black slacks. "There was a similar case in Jacksonport, Arkansas a few weeks ago. We were just sent to follow up and see if there's any connection to our case."

They nodded, seeming oddly annoyed at the thought of the Federal Bureau working their case. "Fine. We've got three bodies, all cut open – looks like some animal attack. Still can't find the youngest daughter – six-year-old Abigail. We're calling friends and family, thinking she might have gotten away; but we're not staying optimistic. With an attack this violent…." He trailed off and shook his head. Cases involving children always hit hard. He straightened right back up, meeting Sam's eyes, whereas Dean was glancing around at the other police officers. "Anyway. The bodies have already been taken for autopsy. The main scene's upstairs; just…don't touch anything." The look the brothers received was a mix between a scowl and a glare as the commander turned their back just as they were called by one of the other officers.

Sam hit Dean in the shoulder, who was paying attention to an officer dusting for prints on two wine glasses on an old glass coffee table in front of an antique white couch. He just nodded his head and they began to walk up the mahogany staircase against the wall of the foyer. It was easy enough to find the scene, since it was the only room upstairs officials were currently occupying. When they came in, the two officers looked up.

"We'll take it from here, guys," Dean said, overconfidence spilled onto his face. They just raised their eyebrows, making the Winchester sigh. He pulled his wallet back out and flashed them the badge. They glanced to each other and, without a word, left the room. Dean followed them out with his eyes, hands shoved into his pockets. "Thanks." Once they were down the hall and out of sight, Dean turned to look at Sam. "Lively bunch," he muttered, but Sam answered with a "yeah", nonetheless.

In the room, which wound up being the bedroom, the walls were covered with blood spatter, and what looked like drag marks ran across the ceiling. The window on the far end of the room was busted, shattered glass littered the carpeted floor beneath it. Sam was by it and he lifted the pane, kept his hands on the windowsill and leaned out, looking at the walls outside. Sighing, he brought his head and upper body back in, looking to Dean.

"Definitely paranormal. And by the looks of the claw marks on the outside of the window, looks like the same Pishacha demon from last night."

Dean set his hands on his hips, cursing. "Shit. If that damn thing wouldn't have gotten away last night…." He released a breath and turned back to Sam. "I thought we checked the Morrison's out, though? There was nothing in their family history that suggested any violent deaths."

Sam shook his head, shrugging. "I don't know. We might have missed something. Either that or…."

Dean waited, but when Sam did not continue he motioned. "Or?"

"Or this is all just a setup." At that, Dean's look became curious. "After last night, do you really think it would be dumb enough to act up again? This has _scam_ written all over it."

Dean released a breath, nodding his head. "Damn it. I was hoping this wouldn't happen." He thought for a moment, and then lifted his head to make eye contact with Sam, who was just as distraught as he was. "One thing I don't get: it knows we're here, so why doesn't it just up and leave? Why stick around and risk it?"

"I don't know," he responded with a shrug. "Could be there's something here it wants to finish; and if that is the case, then we need to kill it before it gets that far."

Dean scoffed. "That's just great. We're back to chasing shadows…awesome." He took one last look at the room, eyes landing on the pool of blood on the bed. His mind sat for a moment, trying to sort out what to do. "Come on. I want to get a look at the ground outside."

He turned on his heel, walking out of the room with Sam tracing right behind him. They passed the same officers that had been in the room on the stairwell, and they headed right back up once the others were at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of leaving through the police-filled foyer, they turned down the hallway leading to the kitchen. There was a Crime Scene Investigator in the kitchen, crouched by the wall and collecting trace evidence. Their bag sat on the counter above their head, glass vials on the counter, each individually labeled. Two of them already had Q-tips in solvent; the bottoms liquid turned a light red at the bottom. Part of the attack must have started in the room, whereas there was broken glass all through the kitchen. Blood smears ran across the walls and the counters, and a bloody handprint was on the doorframe where they had entered. The investigator did not even acknowledge the Winchesters as they walked by and slipped out of the kitchen door, leading to the backyard.

Unlike inside the house and the front lawn, there were no officials in the fenced-in backyard. A six-foot fence surrounded the lawn, a rusting swing-set was under a large maple tree near the left corner of the yard in front of a shed in the same state and a well was about ten feet away from the door. Sam glanced through the screen door to the kitchen while Dean stepped back, neck arched to get a better look at the second story bedroom window. There was a dark mark directly under it, which would not have been visible from the window itself. Next to the kitchen door, ivy grew up a wooden fence next to the gutter pipe. Sam was now gazing up, as well, his eyebrows raised.

"You going up?" he asked, not even having to look at Dean to know he was nodding. Without moving his gaze, he reached took Dean's jacket once it was removed, then glanced around as Dean walked to the fence. Making sure he had his footing, Dean gripped the fence and hoisted himself up with a grunt. Keeping his eyes out for any police, Sam held Dean's jacket under his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets, making quick looks around. When he looked back up, Dean was less than two feet away from the markings. He finally managed to get up right under the windowsill, staying quiet to listen if anyone was currently in the room. After a moment's waiting, he stretched out to get a better look at the markings.

"Remind me again why I'm up here?"

Sam knitted his eyebrows together. "What?"

Dean shook his head and looked down as he began to climb down. However, right before he reached the fence, his foot slipped on the bracket holding the gutter in place and he slid down, cursing as he did. He caught the fence and only climbed down it halfway before jumping the last half. He grabbed his black jacket from Sam and looked at his now-torn slacks as he put it back on. "Either one of these people could climb walls, or not all of the bodies were found." He buttoned the jacket and pulled it down; it was just long enough to cover the scratch.

"Blood?"

"Yeah." He scanned the yard.

"That doesn't make sense. If it _is_ the demon, the bodies would have been missing organs, not just sliced open" Sam commented, dragging his eyes across the lawn and landing on the shed.

Dean nodded towards it and started walking, leaving Sam to, once again, glance around to make sure they were not being watched as he slowly walked after him, staying a few steps behind. When they tried to pull and push the door open, it would not budge. A glance to each other gave a silent signal and they both stepped back. At the same time, they gave it a hard kick. Something on the opposite side sounded as though it was falling and hit the floor, echoing loudly inside the building. Trying to push it open, it still would not budge, so, using their shoulders, they began pushing it, trying to get footing on the ground to keep from sliding. The door sounded as though it was screeching against metal as it slowly opened, scraping the metal floor inside. As light from outside flooding into the shed, both of the brothers stopped short, exchanging awkwardly surprised looks.

Against the wall at the back of the shed, the Morrison's six-year-old daughter sat in the corner on the floor, huddled and shaking; her eyes were missing from their sockets, blood dripping from them down her face.

* * *

><p>Don't worry, everyone. There won't be many OC characters, so you won't see much of that. I'm not big on putting OCs in my stories, to be honest. A few people here and there, but I don't like main characters that are OC - I guess that's a better way to say it. Belial was a rarity! Granted, some of the ones in here will be actual demons (in old works - like the 6 Great Spirits of Hell and what not). Actually, Belial's one of the grand demons of Hell and commands legions (in the actual books of demon lore). For my purposes, he was just a minor demon.<p>

I'm RANTING! I know. Let me know what you thought!


	3. Breeze  in Monochrome Night

I'm actually surprised this didn't take me longer to get up. I had a bit of writer's block, but not nearly as bad as usual. I hit a slow part in this, but then it sped up and got interesting. If I had a hard time writing it, I'm hoping you all don't have a hard time reading it. Ha! Anyway! Let me respond to you all!

To **passionate4pens94**, it's understandable. Dealing with the boys, we expect torture, but when it's a child (in this case, a little six-year-old girl), we don't enjoy seeing children tortured. That was what I was after. :3 And...you think _Baited_ was one of the bests? You have NO clue how happy that makes me! S;o happy you enjoyed it enough to have that high of an opinion about it! Don't worry - this will revolve around using scenes. ;D And **SPN Mum**...why would they talk? That would solve everything and we certainly can't have that. Heh heh. Unfortunately, when it comes to hunting the Pishacha demon...well...I'll let you read this and won't spoil it, but this story may not take the direction you're thinking. Heh heh. So horrible, I know. Love torturing you all. **Ice Dragon3**, you know me and detail. xD I'm trying not to include so much useless stuff that doesn't really need to be said (like I did tend to do in the first _Baited_, as you had pointed out - lol). Constructive critism helps me out. Glad the slow start won't bore you. I promise it'll start picking up, though.

**Twinchester Angel**, you break my heart! You think I can't write a scene without something creepy and violent...that's just so mean. ...true, but still mean. xD And having the boys in sync is something, not only the show relies on, but something I like to rely on...almost like a fall back when I don't have an idea on what to do. Does that sound as horrible to you as it does to me? And I can't reveal everything to you! Why Dean's dreaming what he's dreaming - why Sam's thinking what he's thinking. Oi. What do you take me for? Lol! Well, I won't hold you, anymore, and let you read. :D

**Killingdanse**, sorry for getting snippy, but I get defensive when people contradict my writings to what I know it true. Haaa. -nervous laughter-

Okay! No more keeping you!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, except the plot!

* * *

><p><strong>3<strong>

**Breeze – in Monochrome Night**

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes with his left hand, his right hand still set on the mouse pad to the laptop. Setting sunlight peaked into the motel room, creating a thin strip of orange light from the window, across the beds and up the wall separating the bedroom from the bathroom. The image of the child was a poster in the back of his mind; the empty sockets where her eyes should have been hollow and going deep into the back of her head. When they tried to get her out of the shed, she had gone into hysterics and started screaming, kicking and flailing her arms, refusing to be touched and calling for her mother over and over again. They had to get the officials to aid the girl and took over an hour just to get her calmed down enough for one of the female officers to coax her into coming with her. It left for the Winchesters to give an interesting explanation to police on how they found her; an even better topic was why her eyes were missing. Luckily enough, the investigators came up with their own conclusion that it was a souvenir the perpetrator took: the girl was in too much shock to give them any other reason. Plus, even when she did manage to come around, it was not likely they would believe a six-year-old's terrified ramblings about a demon.

On the laptop screen was an image of a Pishacha demon from Hindu lore; eight arms, six of which were holding items of significance. Lore called it a medieval form of vampire that would mainly stick to hunting on cremation grounds, so the question was why was it hunting in a small town neighborhood in Alabama? Every fifteen years, it would act up again, requiring whichever organs – no longer having humans giving up sacrifices, it had to work like the lesser gods they had encountered before. Killing it required stabbing it through the heart with a blessed sword or beheading it with the same weapon.

Sam leaned back in the chair, stretching his back over the back-end of the chair to pop it. It was the same information they found when they first discovered it was a Pishacha demon they were dealing with.

It was getting redundant.

He set his elbows on the table on each sides of the laptop, staring blankly at the image of the demon, eyes tracing over the items it held in its hand and wondering how much of an importance it played – whether or not it was as much to do with the items Shiva held in her arms. But, that soon became a dull line of thinking and his mind began wandering to the same train it had been for the past months…and some new ones.

A benefit of Dean being hammered last night meant that he had forgotten about Sam wanting to call it a night at an earlier time than originally intended; which meant that there would be no curious line of questioning. Granted, even then he was unsure whether or not it had even happened. It would not be the first time he had imagined seeing or hearing something, but a nagging feeling in the back of his head insisted that it had actually been said. Of course, at the same time, he had believed visual imagery of Belial being real, so who was to say what was fantasy and what was reality?

The sound of the motel door opening and closing drew his attention and he sat up, stretching again as he looked behind him at Dean walking in.

"Anything new?"

Sam shook his head as Dean walked over to lean in and see the screen. "Not since the other five times we've checked. I think we're missing something."

He sighed and shook his head. "Anything in there on how we can trap it?"

"Not that I've managed to find. You get in touch with Bobby?"

"Yeah. He's had about as much luck as us." Sam crooked his mouth and glanced back to the computer screen at the image of the demon. Dean set his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Put it on hold for a bit and let's go get food." He patted his shoulder and stood back, checking his pockets for the keys to the Impala.

"Sounds good," Sam said, shutting the laptop and pushing the chair back to stand up. Again, he stretched out, having been sitting down for hours, his legs trying to cramp. "You manage to find out anything on the family?"

As Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket, he shook his head. "Nothing. Pulled every record on them. I'm thinking that you were right and it was just a setup. Kind of bullshit is that? Last night, we really managed to piss that thing off. Anyway! Break time. We need to air that big brain of yours out. C'mon, Sam."

He headed to the door, swung it open and disappeared outside. Sam grabbed the spare hotel key off of the dresser that the television sat on before heading after him, also being sure to snatch his jacket from the chair, as well.

o-o-o-o-o

The place they stopped at was a small restaurant that was at its peak time. Cars filled the parking lot, but, despite being packed, there were no people waiting outside, which played in their favour when they walked in and were greeted by the hostess and a family of five in the lobby. The hostess smiled, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and black shirt with the logo and name of the restaurant was tucked into black slacks.

"Table for two?" her tone suggested late teens, her pupils dilating at the brothers' appearance. Dean just smiled and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as the hostess grabbed two plastic menus and led them to a table in the middle of the one-room eatery. "Your server will be right with you," she said as they sat down and she set their menus on the table. She left their presence and Sam took his jacket off, leaving it to fall over the back of his chair.

"Check this out," Dean said, drawing Sam's attention. "Four-paged menu. We're getting fancy." Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean's overly-entertained grinned as he picked up the menu and waved the second page as it opened. He did not bother waiting for a response, verbal or other, from his brother as he started looking at the menu, eyes jumping straight to the list under _Burgers_. Sam began looking over the one in front of him. Before he even had a chance to read through half of a list, Dean tossed his shut on the table and leaned with his elbows on the table. "Well, that was easy."

Sam glanced up to him over the menu. "Let me guess: something loaded in fat…with bacon."

The grin on Dean's face told him he was right. "You know me so well, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Big shocker, there." His eyes disappeared back behind the menu, leaving Dean to raise his eyebrows and lean back, looking around the restaurant. Most of the tables were filled, some by families, others by dates and some just by friends. A group of four teenagers were flinging crumpled up straw wrappers at each other, laughing loudly as one of the balls went down one of the girls' V-neck t-shirts. A family of five was two tables over, the mother scolding the looked-to-be-fourteen-year-old daughter for having her iPod in her ears. At the back of the room near the window for the kitchen, two tables had been pushed together to make room for a party of twelve, all talking loudly to be heard at the other end. A couple got up from a nearby table, made their way through the room to a couple sitting at another table. They all began smiling and talking, obviously knowing each other. Perhaps it was at that moment Dean realized just how out of place he and Sam truly looked in such a small town; it was no wonder they stuck out.

So much for laying low.

But, at the same time, if everyone in the town knew each other, someone that did not fit in would be all they would talk about. Meaning that—

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," a male voice said as they approached the table.

Dean and Sam both looked up, seeing a familiar face. "Hey…."

"No surprise seeing you all here," Gai said, taking a pen out of the black server's apron. "Small town – not much to do…not many places to go."

Dean laughed and leaned forward, bringing his forearms to sit on the table. "That's the truth. What? This the only place in town to grab a bite?"

A small laugh. "Yeah. Hey, Sam."

Sam made a quick glance and nod before turning back to the menu. "Still the ever talkative type. Well, since he's still looking over, what can I get you guys to drink?"

Dean released a puff of air and made a look to Sam, who brought his gaze up just long enough to shrug. "Guess just two cokes." The look on his brother's face was mutual as he turned back to the list. Dean's attention was back on Gai, a toothless smile on his face.

He just nodded, focused on quickly jotting it down on his pad. "Epic. I'll go grab this and give Sam, here, a few more minutes." He sent a coy smile in Sam's direction, which went unnoticed by the younger Winchester, but received an exhaled snort from Dean before walking away, shoving his pad back into his apron, eyes glancing around to his other tables.

Dean turned his head and leaned back on the table towards Sam. He grabbed the menu and pulled it down. "All right. What's up with you?" Sam only stared at him; a partially blank look on his face was followed by a shrug, leaving Dean to frown. "What? Is the case finally getting to you? Because I know you, Sam. Something like this should be nothing."

Sam pulled the menu down and out, getting it out of Dean's grasp. "It's not and it's nothing."

A frown followed.

"Bullshit." Sam's face disappeared as he held the menu in front of his face. "Look, if you've got stuff going on in that head of yours, either say what it is or stop acting like you're on the rag." There was a pause filling the space between them, before Dean followed out with, "Does it have something to do with why you bailed last night?" He knew he hit it right when he saw Sam shift and drop the menu on the table, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. I wasn't that hammered."

Sam clenched his jaw, having thought that exact wording merely an hour prior.

They only stared at each other, challenging the other – Dean to get Sam to open up and Sam to get Dean to stop asking.

It appeared that Sam had won when Gai returned to the table with their drinks and set them in front of each of them. He stepped back. "Well, I see Sammy's ready, so shoot," he said, his disposition buoyant as he took his pad and pen back out. Sam and Dean kept their stern gazes on each other for another second before breaking contact. As Sam picked the menu up to scan quickly through, Dean pulled back, exhaled and looked at their server. When Dean told him what he wanted, Gai's eyes rose. "You realize that thing's as big as your head, right?"

"That's not possible," Sam commented, receiving a small glare and sneer from Dean and a laugh from Gai.

"Nice. And what about you? Same thing?"

Now it was Dean's turn to snort and get the response he had given Sam. "That'll be the day," he snickered as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Funny," Sam sneered. "Sorry, I don't have plans to kick out from heart problems. Anyway"—Dean raised his eyebrows, but chose not to comment—"I'm just going to do this." He pointed to something on the list, which Gai had to lean over to see; but he nodded as he jotted it down.

"Are you sure you two are related? No offense, but, usually, chicks get that."

Sam smirked as Gai retrieved the menus and Dean laughed, apparently a bit louder than he had meant to, whereas he pulled back and shifted in his chair. "Explains so much; after all, Sammy's my little bitch, ain't that right, Sam?" he said as he winked to his brother across the table. Sam forced out a laugh and grabbed his soda to give himself a reason to avoid commenting; but when his eyes quickly darted to Dean, his brother suddenly looked confused. Gai was shaking his head, seeming to feel just as awkward. He said he would put the orders in and gave himself an out, moving away from their table. Dean looked to Sam as his glass made contact with the table, face still in disbelief. "I honestly have no clue why I just said that."

Sam shrugged and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest; his expression was a mix between awkward and upset, all the while trying to appear as though it did not matter. "Doesn't matter."

Dean looked at him sympathetically. "Come on…just get mad or something – tell me you're not a complete sociopath."

Sam glanced off to the side, contemplating. His mouth formed into a smile as he looked back to his brother. "Okay." Dean's eyes seemed to get brighter, but Sam's demeanor had him knitting his brows together. "Don't fall asleep tonight."

Sam smirked while Dean released an awkward laugh, sitting back and rubbing the back of his head. Regaining his posture, he returned to leaning on the table and kicked Sam's leg under the table, making the younger Winchester jerk forward and shoot him a scowl. "Hey, someone's gotta be dominant in this relationship. See that? Can still embarrass you." He pulled his legs back when Sam tried to do the same from under the table, his mouth tight and face growing a light shade of red.

As the rest of the evening went by, the usual talk switched to talk about the case and led right back to mindless chatter of things the people around them were doing. A conversation on finding people that failed to fit in suit a trio of males that all appeared to be in their late teens to early twenties. They were acting obnoxious and continued to hit on a slender, raven-haired waitress each time she passed. Finally pushing too much, they were asked to leave by the restaurant's manager. Obviously annoyed, they cussed at the man before ditching their place and leaving the building, making sure to push their way passed a server leaning over a table to drop off drinks – they ended up spilling one of the drinks on a guest. Other than that, nothing stuck out. Gai had come and dropped their food off, still trying to keep from snickering as he placed Sam's plate in front of him – Dean was not short of remarks, either, staring at the array of colors on the medium-sized salad. Not that the oldest brother's Heart Attack on a Plate got any kinder remarks from the younger.

By the end of their meal, Dean was looking green and was cursing at Sam as he discussed the Pishacha demon chowing down on human organs to stay alive. He was telling Sam to shut up for a minute as he held his fist to his mouth, stomach churning. When Gai came back to the table, he was giving Dean a curious look and Dean was groaning that he should have gotten the same thing Sam had. He waved his hand when the server asked if he was still working on it (there was a little less than half of the burger left), signaling to take it away. Once it was gone, Dean fell back against the back of the chair, one hand over his stomach and the other hanging by his side.

"If I even see another cow, I think I'm gonna hurl," he groaned, exhaling.

Sam shook his head. "Speaking of which, we should check out the farm right outside of town – it's out of the way and would be a decent hiding spot." Dean nodded, his eyes closed as he tried to convince his stomach to settle. "Nothing better than fresh beef." Dean pulled forward at the thought, glaring up at Sam with his hands on the table, head partially facing the floor.

Gai came back to the table with the checkbook in his hand and set it down on the table. "If you guys decide to come out tonight, we're hitting up the same bar…not that there's any other bar to go to. So, if you have nothing better to do, feel free – first two rounds are free on Wednesdays, so there's some incentive."

Sam glanced to Dean, who took a deep inhale, then exhaled and looked up at the server. "Never good enough to pass up free booze."

"That's the spirit," he laughed. "So that means you're in, right?"

Dean looked to Sam, who merely shrugged, leaving it to be inferred. Regardless of the meaning, Dean nodded. "I think we can spare a few hours." He looked back up to Gai, his trademark smirk on his face.

"Sweet. We'll see you two tonight, then."

o-o-o-o-o

"Not exactly how I intended to spend the evening," Dean muttered with a frown as his back pressed up against a large tractor.

He peeked around the corner, seeing a large, rundown barn a few yards away. When he saw the light from a flashlight around the edge of the building, he pulled back behind the tractor, inhaling and staring up at the moonlit sky above. He kept still, but brought his head to look at the ground, making sure the light was not headed in his direction, whereas he had nowhere to go without getting caught. He saw the light flash on the corner of the tractor and his breath caught in his throat, but it vanished in the same instant. Just as he was about to release a breath of relief, the light returned, now inching closer. He side-stepped as it flashed from under the tractor by his feet and crouched down, ready to roll under the vehicle when the light would round the corner. However, just as he was about to move under it in chance from being caught, there was a loud bang from somewhere near the barn, sounding as though something large hit against a metal tray or table. Immediately, the light vanished as the person holding it moved away from Dean's hiding spot and went running towards the barn. An air of relief was a fleeting feeling in the hunter's chest when it set it the noise probably came from Sam; more than likely, it was a distraction used to keep Dean from being caught, but it was not as though it lowered his brother's chance from the same issue.

He jerked his head and cursed, taking off across the farmyard to the barn, his shoes pounding on the brown grass underneath his feet. The moment he made it to the building, he turned to press his back to it before peering around the corner to make sure it was clear. He moved next to the opened wooden doors, arching his neck to look inside the dark room. He pulled back when he saw the light from the flashlight, but turned back in when the realization set in that the light was cast upon the ground, not moving. He poked his head back in.

"Sam?" he shouted in a whisper.

There was no response and the light still did not move.

"Sam!" the same volume garnered the same response. The two halves of his brain fought on whether or not to go in. Concern winning (as usual), he ducked inside.

He was met with empty stables and metal chains and tools hanging from the walls and ceiling, as far as he could see; which was not that far, whereas the only light was from the fallen flashlight that was coming out from one of the stalls. Keeping caution on his side, he slowly walked to the stable, the door slightly ajar. When he looked in, he saw the flashlight on the ground, as well as the farmhand that had been scouting the grounds outside. It was an elderly man, his eyes and mouth wide open, as though frozen in a scream, and neck twisted almost one-hundred and eighty degrees.

The good news was that the Pishacha demon was in the barn, but it was nowhere to be found and neither was Sam.

Dean stepped in and grabbed the fallen flashlight before backing out of the stall. He flashed the light around, leading towards the back of the barn – the light barely shined that far. Axes, hoes, chains and the like dangled from the walls and ceiling, even going all the way back, and some of the tools were lying in the hay. He tried to pick up on any sound to show he was not alone in the building, but there was only silence. Since the farmhand was no longer a concern, Dean did not bother to keep his voice down.

"Sam!"

The hay kept his voice from bouncing around the room.

He started moving around the barn, heading towards the back. When he saw wooden stairs, he shined the light up to a rotting loft. A surprised jolt made his chest jump as the light reflected off of red eyes. The demon, which was long and thin, jumped down off of the banister, landing right in front of Dean and making him fall backwards. He dropped the flashlight in the hay, casting an orange glow against himself and the demon, which had six of its gray, bone-like arms on him, opening his arms and screeching, its mouth full of sharp teeth. His hand fumbled for the bowing knife on his person, but the demon locked his arms down. With its other two arms, it ran its claws in a cutting motion down Dean's chest, having him yell out as the wound opened and blood began spilling down his chest.

The pressure of the creature on him suddenly stopped, as did the slicing, when the demon pulled back, screeching loudly as its main two arms flailed backwards to remove a piece of wood that was now protruding from its back. Just as it pulled it out, but before it had a chance to react, it was pulled backwards with a chain around its neck. Dean rolled onto his side, groaning as he pressed his hand to his chest, where his hand was met with warm blood. He turned his head to see Sam gripping the chain tightly around the creature's neck, his hands gripping the metal so tightly it was digging it into his palms. The demon reached its arms back, gripping Sam's head and pulling, strength apparent when it managed to lift him off of the ground and throw him against one of the stable doors. Dean was stumbling to his feet, but was thrown right back to the ground as the demon shoved passed him and jumped into the stall after Sam.

He groaned and called out for Sam as he tried again to stand up, blood dripping down his abdomen. As he managed to gather to a standing position, he made sure to grab the knife, which had fallen from its place in his pocket into the hay. A loud shout from his brother gave him enough adrenaline to push forward and swing the stable door open just in time to see the demon on top of Sam, digging its hand into his right shoulder.

"Hey!" Dean yelled out as he lunged forward and dug the knife into the demon's back, slicing diagonally. It shrieked, pulling off of Sam and trying to jerk away from the weapon, but Dean refused to relinquish his hold and forced the knife in deeper, jerking it up its spine. The demon suddenly fell silent and collapsed, falling forward onto Sam, who grunted as the weight fell on his chest and stomach. He pushed it off of him and sat up, panting and gripping his shoulder as he stared at it. Dean, who was now standing, held out his hand to help pull Sam to his feet. "Not exactly by the book, but I think it's dead."

Sam just nodded, panting. He looked to Dean. "You good?"

Dean looked down at his opened shirt and slice running down his chest. "Nothing a patch-up job and some alcohol can't fix."

Again, Sam nodded, somewhat incoherent. "That actually sounds…really good."

"Yeah, it does. Come on. Let's get rid of this thing and then get the hell out of here," he said, hitting Sam on the shoulder, which made him cringe and death glare Dean as his brother just smiled.

o-o-o-o-o

"I wonder if it's possible to go one night without having to be sewn up," Dean spoke as he stood in front of the mirror and finished running the bandaging down his abdomen. He looked in the mirror to see Sam trying to patch up his shoulder, struggling with only being able to use one arm. The light smirk on his face from his own comment faded at the all-to-familiar scene. His mind flashed back to seeing Sam chained to the pipe in the basement of the abandoned house in West Virginia, his hands behind his back and shoulder bleeding from where the demon had shoved the knife to the hilt in it; it was followed by the image of his brother's cut and scarred upper body, which he could not see from where he was, only being able to see Sam's back. He shook his head to get rid of the images and walked across the room to him, his smirk back on his face as he shook his head. "That's, uh…pretty bad, Sammy." Sam did not even look at him, but his frown was apparent, nonetheless. "Move," he said, knocking Sam's hand out of the way. The annoyance was blatant on Sam's face and he released an aggravated sigh as Dean began taking off the crooked and loose bandaging. The new wound on his shoulder was almost directly over the scar from the previous wound.

He did his best to ignore all the damage on his brother's body and focus solely on getting the wound wrapped properly. As he started wrapping it, Sam cringed at the pressure, but shook his head to ignore it.

"Now that this is all taken care of, I think we should give Bobby a call and see if he's managed to find anything on Belial."

He jerked when Dean pressed down on the gauze to tape it in place; Dean shrugged, becoming annoyed at the suggestion. "I doubt he has, Sam. If we haven't managed to find anything out for this long, we're probably not going to be able to track anything down unless something acts up again." He kept the dressings tight as he wrapped it around Sam's shoulder and under his arm, locking it in place with another piece of medical tape he had to rip off with his teeth.

"Yeah, but why wait? If something happens in the meantime, we're not prepared for it."

Dean pulled back and tossed the supplies on the table between the beds. He walked around Sam, not wanting to discuss it after just having finished up a hunt. A moment's a peace was all he asked for. He grabbed his black shirt that was draped over the television and pulled it on over his head. "We have nothing to go on, other than some bullshit name and no demon willing to talk." He pulled it down, then reached for his brown leather jacket that had been next to it.

Sam had picked up his button-up shirt that was sitting next to him on the bed. He stood and shrugged, tossing his shirt on and buttoning it up. "Could always get in contact with Castiel. It's been a month since we've seen him – he'll have had to have found something out by now." He pulled the bottom of the shirt down over the band of his jeans, straightening it out. He looked at Dean to see him looking annoyed, almost to the point of pissed off.

"Dude, I don't give a shit. We don't have to be on it all the damn time. Would you shut up about it for five goddamn minutes?" Sam bit down on his jaw, his shoulders subconsciously tensing up. Dean's tight expression started to soften as he saw the regret shadow over Sam's eyes, despite trying to hide it. "Shit…I didn't mean…." He clenched his jaw as Sam only shook his head, meaning it was not a big deal. He turned his back to him to reach out for his own jacket that was on the chair by the door. Dean released a sigh, silently wondering why he snapped at all. He wanted to know just as badly as Sam did. "Chalk it up to Cabin Fever – gotta get out of this room." He walked up behind Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. "Let's forget about it for tonight, all right, and hit up the bar. We need it."

* * *

><p>Told you it sped up. Tension...you gotta love it.<p>

So, let me know what yout hink and where you think this is headed. :D


	4. End of Small Sanctuary

Okay! A little forewarning: this chapter moves fast! I gotta get up-to-speed, so if this seems a little quick, my apologies. I'm trying not to make this as long as _Baited_, but there is still a lot of stuff that will be happening and that I have to include. I know where I'm going with this, just gotta get there. I will say this: if you don't feel bad for Sam by the end of this chapter...you're as cold and dead on the inside as I am. -dies laughing-

ANYWAY! Let me respond to my lovely reviewers that I love so much!

**SPN Mum**, you have no clue how tense things are about to get! Foreshadowing? Maybe. Hindsight's 20/20! Wait... I'll be honest, I feel bad for Sammy in this one. Before, most of it was physical damage; this one's going more psychological. Call me what you will, but I love working with the human brain and accessing different sectors that control different emotions. Unfortunately, I can't promise much with Dean in the "understanding" category, so those that do come will be far and few...not to spoil anything. **passionate4pens94**, I'm actually glad that I can trip you all up. Heh heh. Working with Dean's smart mouth is actually...different in this. Because _Baited_ didn't have much interaction between Sam and Dean, I kinda got to omit a lot of that, so I keep trying to come up with as much sarcasm for Dean as I possibly can. Hope you continue to enjoy and look forward. Don't wanna disappoint you! **Killingdanse**, happy I didn't scare you off. xD I get SO worked up! Blah. Sue me. Not really. I have no munnies to take.

**Twinchester Angel**, your review...was...epic. And epically long, which I love even more. So glad you liked those scenes! particularly the diner scene, since that was the scene I was having a helluva time working on. I'm always afraid that I'll take them to out-of-character when I have them together for alloted amounts of time. It's a pet-peeve of mine - strange, I know. And it's TRUE! They would stick out anywhere. Such gorgeous boys. *-* I want to throw Jared and Jensen in a closet with a camera, lock the door and whatever happens, happens. -evil smirk- As for the scene in the barn...I loved working with that, and I actually wanted to drag it out a lot longer; but I decided to cut it short, because I didn't want to bore you all. So...personally, I felt that it moved really fast. I think people were expecting the deal with the Pishacha demon to run longer and not end so abruptly. But if I can get your attention for that and that makes you want to read a sex scene...um...I'm gonna shut up about that, now. They save each other a lot. There. I'll drop it off at that. It's true (about the patching up). I wish the show would show it, too, since we know that, a lot of the wounds, they would need each other's aid to get to. That's why I love including the scenes. Since we never witness it, we get to speculate what happens, making it...I think, "hotter", for lack of better terms. You made perfect sense, so no worries. Now...I just gotta keep you all guessing. No more writing from me, for now! I will allow you to read!

Now that that's all said and down, enjoy it all after the disclaimer!

**Disclaimer**: Do I LOOK like I own it?

* * *

><p><strong>4<strong>

**End of Small Sanctuary**

"Do people in this town not work?"

Dean's question was in reference to the full parking lot outside of the bar – few parking spots were even available and the Impala was only able to fit into a spot in the back by the fence. He was fixing his jacket, it having become crooked from sitting in the car, and watching Sam walk around to the back of the parked car to stand next to him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows, giving the notion to start walking towards the building with neon signs in the tinted windows. A group of middle-aged adults were outside, talking and laughing, still sober and had apparently just come from a movie, whereas they were discussing a particular scene and quoting it verbatim. One of the women glanced to the boys as they passed by them to walk into the bar, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the group.

They were met by loud chatter – it seemed to have been even busier than it was last night. Probably due because, as Gai had mentioned, Wednesday nights offered two free rounds of shots. The group of college students had somehow managed to regain the table they had the prior night, but they were not as loud, most likely because they were still sober. From what they overheard, they were discussing classes that would be starting back up the following week. People glanced up as they passed by their tables, taking a quick glance just at the motion of someone walking; a few females' gazes lasted longer than a mere second. Sam nudged Dean in the side and motioned with his head towards Gai, who was waving his arm to get their attention at a table close to the bar in the back. When they approached the table, it was Gai with three other people: one female and two other guys. The female was black-haired, appeared to be quite slender from the position she was sitting in with her forearms on the table as she leaned on it, and sapphire blue eyes scanning the Winchesters up and down. The guy sitting next to her looked similar enough to be her brother, but was arguably larger, probably topping off at Sam's height. Arms slung over the back of the chair as they leaned back, the other male appeared to be average; light brown hair with green eyes, it came as a shock that he closely resembled Dean in appearance and demeanor.

None of the people were recognizable as those from the previous night.

"Glad you guys made it; we need some new faces around here," Gai said, seemingly enthralled the boys actually showed up.

Dean laughed as he and Sam claimed two of the three abandoned chairs around the table. "Told you: I never pass up free booze."

Gai laughed and the female had a smirk grow across her face as he gaze seemed to lock on Dean. "Nor does anyone else, as you can see." He looked around the full bar. "Two leads to three, leads to four," he laughed, practically singing it. Glancing at his friends, he seemed to hit the realization. "Oh, right, right. Introductions are in order. Sam, Dean"—he motioned to each of them as an informal way to tell his allies their name—"this is Fleurety," the female, "Beni," the probably-brother, "and Raphael," the look-alike.

Muttered "hi's" went around.

Seeing the two newbies come up to the table, one of the servers dropped by the table to get them started. Two Sam Adams' and two .46 Magnums. Once she was out of sight, Dean set his hands folded on the table, staring intently at Fleurety. She smiled nervously and gave him a curious look.

"What?"

Her voice came out soft.

Dean shook his head, eyes fixated. "Don't want to seem rude, but I could swear I've seen you somewhere before."

She laughed awkwardly, which brought up the chance for Raphael to chuckle and shake his head, drawing their attention. "Unless you live here or have been to this Hell Hole, I doubt it. How long have you lived here, now?" he asked, motioning to the female.

She seemed to have to think about it for a moment, before coming out with, "I think it's been…twenty-seven years, now?" Both Dean's and Sam's eyebrows raised. "I don't get out much." She laughed lightly as she picked up her Margarita and took a sip. When she set it back down, she made eye contact with Dean. "Ask Beni, here. I've known him since he first moved here."

So much for being related.

"No offense, but why not leave?" Sam spoke up, making Gai appear to be shocked that the youngest Winchester actually spoke out in a group, whereas he choked on his beer and began pounding on his chest; the reaction made Dean laugh and hit Sam on the back, who just sneered.

Once they settled down, she cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders, her black hair falling back behind her. "I've thought about it, but I like it here. Everyone knows each other. Just makes it difficult for…hunting." Sam looked at her and it took both him and Dean a moment to realize she was not referring to their definition. Her eyes on Dean proved that theory.

Raphael pushed himself to sit up. "You don't waste any time at all," he spoke, sounding slightly entertained and slightly annoyed. She sent him an innocent smile and flipped her hair behind her. "Forgive her; she's a little hormonal. Like a freakin' high school girl." He snatched his beer and took a swig and the female rolled her eyes.

The waitress came back to the table to drop off Sam's and Dean's drinks, as well as what had to have been another round of shots for the other four at the table.

"All right!" Gai spoke up, separating the shots amongst the six of them. "Nothing serious! Tonight's all about kickin' back and havin' fun. To no holds barred!" he exclaimed as he held up his shot.

"Damn right," Raphael said and the others followed.

In a moment, everyone downed their first round and the sound of shot glasses banged on the table.

"I'm calling for whiskey, next," Dean said, shoving his glass to where is skidded to the middle of the table. He took his beer to his lips, drinking it with full intent.

o-o-o-o-o

Five shots and two beers later, the table had grown loud with boisterous laughter and exaggerated movements. Dean continued to make comments to Sam for not loosening up, whereas the younger Winchester was still drinking his second beer and had not had a shot since the first. He did not appear to be as determined to get drunk as his brother, which in everyone else's eyes made him the perfect target for ridicule; or maybe that was due to the fact he was the only one that could claim sobriety. Fleurety truly did not waste time, especially once Dean was liquored up and inhibitions were down – not that he minded, and he made sure to pay her the attention she was asking for when she moved from her position between Gai and Beni to sit next to him. Under the table, her hand sat on his thigh and had no intentions of moving.

"But what they don't realize is that, without actually _going_ there, they're never gonna know," Beni spoke, words slurring as he leaned forward on the table to Sam and Dean. "You can read about anything – anyplace, but it's not the same. That's what people in this town don't seem to realize." He shook his head, hanging it down as he tried to keep from laughing. "There's not reasoning with the older crowd, here! Too stuck…. Not like you guys, being everywhere. Count yourselves lucky."

"Yeah," Sam said, hand lightly holding the base of his beer glass, which was sitting on the table. "We're lucky, all right."

Beni seemed to hear the sarcasm in Sam's voice, despite being impaired. His comical expression fell and, shaking his head, he reached his hand forward to set his hand on Sam's wrist. "No…you two don't get stuck; such carefree – you rely on each other. That's…that's something." A loud belch escaped from his throat and he went quiet before he started laughing. "Sorry, Sammy! I'm…I'm gone." He released a breath and leaned back, disconnecting his contact with Sam. He searched the table in front of him, before his eyes fell to Raphael. "Hey! Get your own beer!" he said, snatching the drink that Raphael was holding.

Dean, who hardly seemed to be paying attention to what had just conspired, turned his attention away from Fleurety to Sam. "Having fun?"

"Loads."

"Come on, Sam. No repeats of last night," he said with a frown, or what he was able to make into a frown. By the way his voice sounded, chances were that part of him was starting to feel numb. "Here." He grabbed Sam's beer from his hand and held it straight to his face. "Consume."

Slight annoyance flooding him, Sam pushed Dean's hand away. "Dude, one of us has to be sober enough to drive."

"Come on," he groaned, rolling his neck. "Don't be such a damn fairy."

Perhaps it was the amount of alcohol in his system, but Dean appeared to have failed to realize the physical change in Sam's posture; his shoulders tensing and jaw clenching. For a moment, something fluttered in his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had come.

"Oh, don't be too hard on him," Raphael said, slinging his arm around Sam's shoulders and leaning across him to Dean. "My little sister doesn't drink, either."

The entire table laughed, still hardly audible over the other voices and shouts in the bar.

Sam shrugged off Raphael's arm.

"Yeah, liven up and join the party, Sammy," Fleurety chimed in, stretching across Dean to peer at him. Gai leaned forward to shove his own bottled beer in Sam's face, and he immediately knocked it out of the way.

"I'm good, seriously," he said, aggravation setting in.

"Awe. Sammy's so cute when he's all defensive," Raphael laughed in a mocking voice as he, once again, slung his arm over Sam's shoulders; only, this time, he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Sam shoved him off.

"Knock it off – and it's Sam."

Dean cleared his throat and waved his hand. "All right, guys. Leave him alone."

Dean glanced to Sam and tried to give a reassuring smile through his clouded eyes; again, he failed to see the changed demeanor of his brother. Sam did not return the sentiment and, instead, exhaled in annoyance; it blew over Dean's head and he turned his attention back to Fleurety when she ran her hand up his leg, smiling seductively. She leaned in close to his ear, whispering something or other; whatever it was, it garnered an interesting look from Dean, who grinned and nodded.

An all too common expression, one that got a head shake from Sam, even though Dean was unaware his brother's attention was even on him. He leaned away from her and over to Sam, hitting him in the shoulder with his own. Sam's expression was impassible as he just waved his hand in a 'whatever' motion, not even having to hear what his brother had to say.

"Sam—"

"Dude, I don't care," he said, not bothering to actually look at him as he took a sip of his beer, feeling uncomfortable, knowing that the others at the table were actually paying attention, despite their turned-away heads. "Go sow your seeds…or whatever."

For a moment, Dean seemed to pick up on Sam's anxiety, whereas his expression dropped and became very stern as he stared intently at the other. Whatever it was he was experiencing was gone after a short time. His face was quickly replaced with his over-confident smirk.

"Sammy, I owe you," he said, leaning the stool back on two legs.

"Yeah…you do."

Dean had to catch his balance and, once he did, pushed the stool back just as Fleurety followed. They walked away from the stools, Dean swayed slightly, but he set his hand on Sam's shoulder and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. Whatever it was he said, Sam pulled back in shock and stared back at him, eyebrows creasing his forehead as Dean stared back at him, his eyes soft. He gave his brother's shoulder a light squeeze, and then patted it as he pulled away and looked to the raven-haired female waiting patiently, her eyes fogged over with intoxication. When his attention was back on her, she grabbed his arm.

"Later, boys," she said with a wink to her group as she began pulling Dean away.

Gai was not paying attention and, instead, was drinking his beer while talking to Beni. Sam and Raphael turned and watched his brother and the woman disappear into the full bar. His eyes searched around in front of him, reflecting on what had been said to him, then turned back, grabbing his beer, staring at it.

Once Dean was well out of sight, Raphael took advantage of the situation and patted Sam's shoulder.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you two will have great make-up sex, later."

For some reason, Beni started laughing at the statement, the liquid he had been in the middle of drinking spilled down his chin. His eyes were clamped shut and his face was red as he tried to regain his posture, but every time he came close, he started laughing again. He started hitting his hand on the table, inhaling sharply before continuing to laugh hysterically. Gai rolled his eyes and looked from Beni to Raphael.

"Oh, you two are just awful."

Sam, who no longer felt like putting up with the antics of people he did not even know, leaned to the side to grope around for his wallet. "I'm gonna call it a night." He pushed the stool back and stood up, but Raphael grabbed his arm.

"Awe, come on, Sam. Don't bail. We're just having a little bit of fun." He tossed his arms up in surrender when Sam jerked his arm away. "Fine." He crossed his arms and fell back in his seat, returning to the position he was in when the Winchesters had first arrived. He grabbed his drink and started to chug it. Beni and Gai did not appear to be paying any attention, so when Sam said "later and thanks," there was mild shock when Beni, suddenly composed, looked up at him with dark eyes.

"Why? So you can spend the night alone in some two-bit motel room?"

Sam stopped short and stared back at him, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

He sat up straight before standing, setting his palms on the table and leaning across it. "Look, we both know what I'm talking about, so why not just kick back, have a few more drinks, and then you can head back." Sam's eyes were intense as they focused on him; wither way, Beni just shrugged. "Your brother's with Fleurety – the chick's a freak. He'll be gone all night, I can promise you that one."

At a loss for words, Sam could do nothing but just stare back at him. Gai took advantage of the silence and set his drink on the table before looking up to the hunter.

"Dean dragged you out, right? He wants you to chill out for a bit, doesn't he?"

Despite a voice nagging in his mind to leave, another part of his brain wanted to listen and do just that. Gai was right: Dean did drag him out to have a little bit of fun, so he might as well do what his brother wanted. Going against his own will, he found himself sitting back down at the table, much to the others' amusement.

o-o-o-o-o

Fleurety pushed Dean down onto the bed, stripping off her sweater as Dean partially sat up to throw off his jacket and take his shirt off over his head. Once she was stripped down to her undergarments, she crawled onto the bed. Dean ran his hands up her arms and to her back as she began fumbling around for his belt and buckle; his leaned up to bite at her neck, forcing a moan from her throat. Once she had him out of the constraints of his jeans and began stroking his length, he set his forehead on her chest, hand on her breast. She pushed him into the bed, smirking astutely before tracing her lips down his chest and abdomen. He ran his hand through his hair, watching her move down; her fingers danced lightly on his sides. Once she came to his length, she began lightly kissing the shaft, and then traced her tongue up the organ, sucking the tip.

Dean's head fell back into the pillow as Fleurety's mouth closed around him, moving up and down. His heart rate began increasing as he shut his eyes and swallowed, trying to keep from thrusting upwards. As he let his mind drift to enjoy the sensation, his brain began dragging him into his subconscious. He saw brown hair falling in front of a sharp face as their cheeks sunk in while their mouth worked around his length, sucking and teasing the tip. His mouth fell open, panting, the scene increasing the physical stimulation. His breath hitched in his throat as his hand searched and his fingers entangled into hair. Moans escaped from his throat, somewhere switching from inaudible moans to utterances.

"Oh…god…shit," his voice was exasperated. He tried to hold back his vocals, but his mind was living in the moment, so when he came out with, "…fuck…Sam…," it did not register what he had said. He could see the image of Sam in his mind, his brother's head bobbing as he continued to work the sensitive organ.

At the vision, his heart dropped and filled with dread.

The sensation suddenly stopped and his eyes slowly opened, the ceiling coming into focus. There was no doubt she had heard him and was as in much shock as he was. He lifted his head to look down, face still in trepidation that he had been picturing his brother; but, instead of seeing the female staring at him with an expression of utter disgust, a sharp pang to his chest made his heart jump to his throat when his brother's image was staring back at him.

"Call me whomever you want, Dean," the image said; but though he was seeing his brother's form, the voice was still Fleurety's. The image leaned up against him, grabbing his length and lightly pulling at it; the saliva had made it slick. "I can be anyone you want me to."

Dean's eyes began to glaze over, his eyebrows lifting up and creasing his forehead. "Sam?" His eyes were stinging.

It was wrong – this was not right.

Something was getting into his head and a voice in the back was screaming at him to pull away and end it before it got too far.

Eyes dark, he watched as Sam's form drew a sly smile. "That's right, Dean," they said, pulling up and connecting their mouths. "I'm Sammy. There's no wrong or right here," she continued, pulling up to lean over Dean. When his eyes followed the image she took on, she cocked her head, obviously amused. "You want the ultimate poison, and I can give it to you…venom free."

Demon – demon – demon.

The words echoed in his head, yet, even still, he could not seem to bring himself to stop it. The dreams he had been having flooded into his head and it started to register that was what was happening: a vision.

A dream.

None of it was real.

And if it was a dream, then there could be nothing wrong.

Fleurety seemed to wait for that type of response, or at least wait for Dean's eyes to believe it. When they appeared to become nearly vacant, as though looking passed what was in front of him, Dean's eyes fell closed and his head fell back against the pillow. She smiled and positioned the form over Dean's length, lining up. As she slowly lowered herself, Dean opened his eyes slightly and lifted up, watching Sam's form slide around him. His mouth was opened as he watched, sucking in audible gasps. He fell back and pressed into the mattress; seeing Sam's image completely take him in, it was—

"So fucking gorgeous…."

His chest sunk at what was happening, what he letting happen, but his mind did not want to turn it away, no matter what his subconscious was screaming at him. Something in his mind was shutting down and, as the form of his brother moved up and down, whatever part of him was against it became suppressed. By the end of it, his brain switched from yelling at him to telling him it had been what he had wanted, and to take advantage of what was being presented to him. He kept thinking "it wasn't really Sam." His hands moved around, finally setting on the other's hips, failing to see the eyes on the image flash black.

* * *

><p>Told you it would move fast!<p>

Let me say this: I've NEVER worked with a heterosexual sex scene...EVER. It's always been guy/guy. So...if it seemed awkward to you, it felt awkward for me to write it. I've been writing guy/guy for so long, I know how it works. I can imagine how to go about it, what would be said, what's done, etc. Guy/girl, I'm clueless. I don't even LIKE working with it. It just feels wrong to me. I'm weird, I know.

Hope this didn't freak you all out and that it's keepin in-character. I know that it's gonna seem weird if you haven't read _Baited_, but it should still work.

Let me know your thoughts! I need feedback on this to know if I went about it correctly. Otherwise, I'm going to be freaking out that everyone didn't like it. I LOVE YOU ALL TOO MUCH!


	5. Pulsating Ambiance

Oh. My. God. This should NOT have taken me this long! I am SO SORRY, EVERYONE!

I became so caught up in working on my other _ Supernatural_ fics and working on my papers for my classes. On a related note, I'm quite certain that, between _Blue Lotus_ and the focus of my papers, the FBI is going to come knocking on my door with a search warrant and confiscate my laptop. I picked a super-taboo topic for my Cyber Crimes paper and another topic coincided for my Police Administration class. X-x I'm just waiting for it to happen. Another reason this took so long was because I had no idea what was going to happen in the chapter. I had four or five ideas and this was the one I deemed fit (it might seem a bit slow).

Anyway. Enough of my ranting and self-pitying. **Souless666 **and **Killingdanse**, glad to know it worked for you all and wasn't too out there. Ha ha. **SPN Mum**, you gotta remember the very last part of _Baited_. -snicker- A certain name should seem familiar. And, a little heads-up, what Dean said to Sam will come into play during this entire fic. It's actually a key point. Go figure. Something so small means so much. -dramatic face- I do have to wonder if anyone's going to pick up who these characters are. So important in Lore... ARGH! No spoilers, sorry, sorry. To **Ice Dragon3**, I'mma jump right to that, actually. A lot of the little outside things I include are things that I've either experienced or that I observed during my own high school years. Lol. I guess we all incorporate our lives into our work as writers. Though, the problem I am experiencing this round with Sam and Dean is keeping them in character. I mean, let's face it, they didn't have much face-to-face dialogue in _Baited_ and even in _Blue Lotus_, their dialogue was at a minimum. I guess I kinda did that on purpose so I wouldn't chance bringing them out-of-character. Maybe I'm just hiding behind that excuse as another reason why this is takiing so long. Blargh. Ignore me. ^^'

**Twinchester Angel**, I am not gonna lie: I honestly thought I scared you off! Lol! I've experienced those glitches with FanFiction, though. They suuuuuuck. I was petrified that I'd lose readers with the whole male/female thing. I dislike writing it as much as people dislike reading it. Related note: I found an interview with Misha Collins being asked if _Supernatural_ went Hollywood and, his response (verbatim): "Uh, gay-porn, incest. . .with two brothers fucking the shit out of each other." I fangirled and screamed for over fifteen minutes. Anyway, back to the reply. Lol. Unfortunately, Dean being played is a vital role to this story (sucks, right?). But there's something about a tortured!Sam that I absolutely adore. Is that bad? Of course...we're all into _Supernatural_ and the show thrives off of that, so I guess that means the lot of us are in the clear! Speaking of the show! Please tell me you've been up-to-date with the series! Lucifer - Sam - ARGH! I love it and I'm DYING for the new episode! And Dean's just...so oblivious! OMG. I'm biting my nails in anticipation of the new episode next week! I'm like you: rocking back-and-forth in a corner, huddled with my Sam plushie and crying because I'm so sick of waiting! And Kripke already said that this season was going to end in a cliff-hanger! SO MEAN! Okay, okay. I'm RANTING! Sorry! I'll leave you alone, for now!

**Disclaimer:** I own the plot of this and that is all!

* * *

><p><strong>5<strong>

**Pulsating Ambiance**

"I don't care what you want, Sam; when I give you an order, I expect you to do it."

John's voice was even as he continued to pack weaponry into a dark green duffel bag. Sam stood by the door to the motel, shoulders up as his hands stayed in fists by his sides, his face red from frustration. His eyes went to Dean, looking for support, but his brother was sitting on the bed taking apart and cleaning a sawed-off shotgun, trying to stay out of the argument. Dean could feel his brother staring at him, so he leaned closer to the barrel he was cleaning, giving himself any reason he could think of to avoid paying attention. Sam brought his gaze back to their father, who was now putting newly-blessed holy water into a pouch in the side of the bag. Without so much as looking at his son, John followed out with, "And you can knock it off with the attitude." He zipped the bag closed, and then looked to fifteen-year-old Sam, whose jaw was firmly clenched as he tried to quell his anger. "Go ahead and get this room set up, all right?" When Sam did not respond, and only continued staring off past him, he released an aggravated sigh. "Sam…."

"No."

John looked at his son, unable to believe he had gone against him.

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows rose.

Dean seemed to lean even closer to the weapon, as though trying to bury himself and make himself invisible, to avoid having to be directed to.

"I'm not gonna set up the room, I'm not going to clean the weapons – we shouldn't have to do this!" A slight whine in his voice showed his age, but the response was enough to agitate their father.

"Sam," his tone was even, but firm, giving his final say. "This isn't about what you want; this is about protecting this family. You can throw your temper tantrum all you want, but if I tell you to do something, you don't argue. You just do it."

Sam had to force an inhale to keep from losing his control; but he could feel it slipping away bit-by-bit. "And if I don't?"

A sigh from Dean drew Sam's attention, but he kept his head faced towards his father. There was the sound of pieces clanking together as Dean set the barrel on the bed against the other pieces of the weapon. "Sam, just do it," he said, voice sympathetic.

At that, Sam turned to look at him, a disbelieving look splashed over his features. Dean's response expression was a crooked mouth and upwards eyebrows, as though showing remorse for his little brother's situation. However, that was not the way Sam interpreted it: rather, it came off as trying to get the argument to come to an end and come to an end swiftly. The way Dean was trying to go about it had him feel betrayed.

"If you're not going to listen to me, then listen to your brother."

John turned back to the duffel bag, making sure the side pockets were buttoned and zipped. Sam stood dumbfounded, switching disbelieving looks between his father and his brother. He could feel his emotions starting to get the best of him. Not willing to allow either of them witness his weakness, he turned around, swung the door open and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Before he even managed to make it to the end of the parking lot, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he shoved it off, not bothering to even look at the person; however, they were not bent on taking "no" for an answer and grabbed Sam's shoulder to spin him around.

"Get away from me, Dean!" Sam shouted, pulling away and taking a step away from him.

Dean took his hand back and sighed in aggravation. "What's the matter with you, Sam? Why do you insist on arguing about everything Dad asks you to do?"

"Why can't _you_ think for yourself!"

The expression to wash over Dean's face had Sam questioning whether or not his brother was about to hit him.

"All he does is watch after us; the least you could do is show the man some respect."

Just like his father's voice had been, Dean's was low, almost threatening. The similarities only made Sam even more agitated than he had already been. When Sam scoffed, Dean glared at him.

"Watch after us? If Dad cared about us at all, he wouldn't have us off hunting things all the time. He wouldn't leave us alone – all this is just some vendetta for Mom's death; finding what killed her isn't going to change anything!"

A slap echoed in the lot.

Sam kept his head to the side where it had snapped, eyes staring frontward. Dean's chest moved up and down as his heart raced and brought his hand down. "Don't you dare talk about Mom like that." Sam barely turned his head to stare up at the older Winchester, eyes turning red. "If you want to act so goddamn ungrateful, then go!" he finally shouted, not being able to contain his irritation at his brother. "Go off and get yourself killed! Give us one less thing to worry about."

Staring at Sam only a moment longer, he shook his head and turned his back towards him, walking away from him, back to the motel room; Sam stared after him, bringing his hand up to hold the red print on his cheek.

o-o-o-o-o

Sam's head ached with the experience of a hangover. The soft surface below him let him know that he had somehow made it back to the motel; the memories of returning were nonexistent, giving rise to the thought that he had been too drowned in alcohol to remember coming back. As he turned over in the bed, a thought struck him: if he had not been sober enough to drive, how did he get back to the room? He clamped his eyes shut before opening them, the room blurring in white right before it came into view. His brows furrowed, the scene around him not the comfort of the motel; he sat up, looking around, the cover falling off of him to bare his chest.

The room he was in was bright, clean and modern, for lack of better terms. Sheer white curtains covered a window to his right that took up the entire wall, allowing daylight to leak in. Everything in the room was white, even the small vase of flowers on the glass bedside table was filled with white tulips. A half-wall appeared to separate the bedroom from an attached washroom; the sink attached to the wall was white marble. The unrecognizable area brewed anxiety in his stomach; or perhaps that was the residual effect of all the alcohol he had consumed the previous night.

What the hell had happened?

His attention was drawn to the sound of an opening door and, through the fogged glass door at the end of the room, a familiar body stepped in.

"Well, good morning, Starshine," Beni said, shutting the door.

Sam furrowed his brows. "Where the hell am I?"

"Oh, don't get up in arms." Sam threw the covers off of him and stood up when Beni moved closer to the bed. Seeing him become offensive, he tossed his hands up in surrender. "Chillax, dude."

Sam glanced around the room before his eyes landed right back on him. "How did I get here?"

Beni sighed and shook his head. "So many questions with you," he muttered, arms crossed over his chest. "You had a little too much last night, passed out, would have felt bad just leaving you, so Raphael and I hauled your ass here. Oh"—he tossed something to Sam, who caught it out of reflex; it was his shirt—"washed your shirt after you puked all over it. Need to learn to hold your alcohol, man." Sam stared down at it, and then brought his eyes to the other, who shrugged and turned to go behind the wall separator. As Sam put the shirt on, he heard the sink turn on. "I can drop you off back at the bar to get your car before I go in, if you want."

He started buttoning the plaid shirt, staring at his reflection in the fogged glass wall. "Go in? Where do you work?" he tried to make small talk. His hands moved to check his pockets for his phone and the keys to the Impala. When he did not feel them, he looked back to see them sitting on the bedside table under the lamp.

"Auto shop down the road. Don't have to go in for another hour, though."

He picked up the keys and shoved them in his pocket before grabbing the phone and flipping it open, expecting to see a missed call or two from Dean. "Auto shop…." He tried to recall passing one when they had come into town. His mouth turned into a frown when there was nothing on the screen of his phone.

The sound of shifting and the water shutting off met his ears. "Only one for the next hundred miles." Sam shut his phone and put it in his back pocket. "Such a wonderful State, right?"

"Oh, yeah," he responded with a sarcastic tone. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Beni was rounding the corner. When he did not see him, he pulled his attention back to the table and slid the drawer out, sifting through the items. "I still don't get why you all haven't moved." He heard the water turn back on, which allowed him a little safety of searching. The only thing he was finding were fiction books and diagrams of different types of vehicles.

"I didn't intend to move here. I was traveling cross-country, stopped here, met everyone and didn't want to leave." He sounded as though he was brushing his teeth, voice somewhat muffled.

"Huh." He shut the drawer and leaned down to look under the bed; it was oddly clean with no stray items. He pulled up in time to see Beni watching him, eyebrows raised. "Looking for, uh—"

"Your shoes are by the door."

Sam sighed, not having a reason ready. "Great." He stood up and adjusted his shirt.

Beni shook his head and moved to the door to the room. "Come on, I'll drive you to get your car." He walked out of the opened door; Sam took one last look around the room before following out after him.

When he entered the main room, he had to wonder if the entire house was nothing but windows and how the hell this guy could afford a place that looked as though it was pulled out of a magazine: hardwood floors with white and metal furniture, a large flat screen television attached to the wall; this guy was well off and obviously had the means to handle himself. The entire interior, however, seemed off; as though there was a difference in the air that made Sam felt awkward and uncomfortable. It was as though the house itself was in a different realm to that of the town – it was out of place, from what he and Dean had seen. For a town that appeared to be dated, the house was strangely modern.

Sam picked his boots up from next to the door as Beni grabbed his keys from a metal curio. Another thought that ran through his head was that he could not recall drinking that much and it took quite a bit for him to get to the point of blackout-drunk. Unless….

"All right, let's get," Beni spoke out once Sam had his boots on, the front door wide open. Even once he stepped out of the house, everything around him still felt hazy. There was a light fog in the early morning air, dew glistening on the blades of dried grass; a long, gravel driveway led away from the house, disappearing behind a corner and trees. His shoes crunched on the gravel as he stepped from the porch as Beni shut the door.

"Hey, look who made it through the night." Sam jerked his head to see Raphael getting out of a black Optima. "And here I thought you'd succumb to alcohol poisoning."

He solemnly shook his head as Beni frowned and Sam laughed nervously. "Not quite," the hunter followed out with.

Raphael shrugged and hit his hand on the roof of his car before he pushed away from it and shut the door. "Not quite," he mimicked, chuckling. "You two…." He stopped and changed his train of thought. "Gonna drop him off?"

"Yep." Beni tossed up his keys and caught them. "Then heading into work." He drew out the sentence and eyed Raphael, who shrugged.

"Right, right." Raphael looked at Sam, smirking. "Tell your brother I said hi."

He passed by them and went to the house, vanishing behind the door.

Once they were in the car, a black 2010 Charger, and it was turned on, modern rock music flooded from the radio and Beni did not appear to have any intentions of turning it down or off. Sam found himself being perfectly fine with that, not wanting to hold a conversation. The ride back into town was filled with the silent music and most of what Sam was gazing out the window ended up being abandoned farmland. It had him questioning how far out these guys lived and why did they live so far from the town. The ride back only took fifteen minutes; Sam made a note of the auto shop they passed, seeing old, rusted cars in the lot. Within the city limits, few people were out and those that were outside were middle-aged and appeared as though they were taking breaks from work or walking to work. The closer they got to the bar, the more college students Sam noticed; most of them were situated at the small cafés based around the general area.

As the Charger pulled into the lot of the bar, Beni reached down to turn off the music, which was in the middle of a Linkin Park song. He stopped the vehicle directly behind the Impala, flipped it into park and leaned back in his seat, dropping his arms on his lap as he sighed and glanced to Sam.

"Well, I hate to be a bad host, but get the fuck out of my car." His face and expression were flat and Sam looked at him, curious. A pause filled the car right before a grin broke across Beni's face and he knocked his elbow into Sam's arm. "I'm just messin' with you, Sam!"

Sam released an awkward laugh before grabbing the door handle and opening the door. "Yeah, well, thanks for the ride and, uh, last night," he trailed off.

Beni just waved his hand.

"No big deal. If it hadn't been you, it would've been one of us." Sam just nodded, then said "thanks" again. He had one foot outside of the car as Beni put the car back in drive. "If you and Dean are still in town tonight, we're going to a club outside of town – 'bout an hour drive. If you two are interested, we're meeting up here beforehand."

Sam nodded his head and came out with, "I'll…give him the heads up."

The door shutting bounced around the lot and, as Sam pulled the Impala's keys out of his pocket, the Charger drove off, wheels crunching on the gravel in the parking lot. The hunter walked to the driver's side of the car, inserted the key into the lock and, once the door was opened, crawled inside. He leaned to the side to take out his phone: there were still no missed calls, making him heave a sigh. Deciding to take the initiative, he punched in Dean's number and pressed the phone to his ear. It kept ringing until it went to voicemail, but Sam hung up before it gave him the chance to leave a message. He tossed the phone in the passenger seat out of aggravation, then turned on the car.

The closer he got to the motel, the more people he saw outside – mainly the college students on break. Being the only place to stay within the town limits, it came to no surprise that many of them were bunking together. A group of three male students outside of the main building glanced at the '67 Impala as it pulled into a parking spot outside of a room, but their attentions were drawn back as two females, obviously students, as well, came out of the lobby. Sam climbed out of the car, making sure to grab his phone and lock the door, and walked into their room after unlocking it. He threw the keys on the dresser the television sat on before falling down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

From the get-go, he felt something off about the group he and Dean somehow managed to intermingle with, but, unlike the presence of a demon, it was not a sense he was accustomed to. Some part of him questioned their intentions, whereas another part continued to claim he was being paranoid and that not everyone they came into contact with was some demented soul out to kill them. Even the snide remarks he had heard from Gai could be discounted. Ever since the fiasco all of those months ago, he kept hearing people make comments, even when he logically knew they were saying nothing. He questioned whether or not Dean was having similar issues; his actions would suggest so, but his demeanor suggested otherwise; and if he was, what was he experiencing?

A groan emitted from his throat as he rolled over, trying to rid his mind from wandering.

* * *

><p>Such a lack of Dean in the chapter, eh? Don't worry, he's saved for the next chapter. Actually, one of those omitted scenes was supposed to go in this chapter, but I decided to hold off, because it will flow better if I hold off including it.<p>

I'll try to get the next chapter up in a week or so, everyone! But I still have those 3 papers - actually, one is almost done, so...more like 2.5. Lol! I gotta graduate - I'm so sick of being at this school. Well...had I not have changed my major 3 times, I wouldn't still be there. Ha~


	6. Meloncholy Requiem

This should NOT have taken this long! Thing is that I have about 10 ideas in my head of what I want to do with this thing - all different directions to get to the same location, and I'm fighting with myself because I don't know which way I wanna use. Argh. That make sense? 'Cause it's driving me mad. The good news is that I'm almost finished with this semester of school, but I am taking summer classes at 18 hours, so I'll only have about a week or two of reprieve to really buckle down on this.

Not that you all wanna listen to my rants. xD

**Big Boots Man Of War**, there is plenty of Dean in this chapter to make up for the lack of him in the other chapter. Heh heh. Have to keep the balance, I guess. Every time I think of Sam and Dean when they were younger, I keep tracing back to the episode before Sam knew about demons and whatnot and he wanted the Lucky Charms, despite there only being enough left for one bowl (which Dean wanted). Breaks my heart. I'm so RAMBLING right now! That scene makes me think that Sam was a lil' prick, but he just didn't know! D: Anyway. My paper waas *ahem* child pornography. Pair that with the undercover police work and Al Quaeda websites I had to go to for other papers and I'm going to jail! -tears- **SPN Mum**, that's for me to know and you all to find out! After all, we all know Sammy's no lush. Lol. I love that everyone focused on that flashback. We'll see similar instances again, relating to the same time frame, so, yay! =^-^= But Sammy doesn't know normal, and it's so sad! Them as kids...-tears- Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this!

**Ice Dragon3**, interesting little fact about this is that the mind games I'm using against our boys are messin' me up. Lol. I can't remember what I've been writing to be a manipulation and what I've been writing that's suppose to actually happen. I have a seperate document on my computer that lists the real from the fantasy. That's bad, isn't it? Still fighting to keep the in character, but I can't help but feel I'm having Dean too...asshole-ish. Maybe you can give me your input on that? Because I've become so used to writing it, I can't tell if I am or not. Again, sorry for the long wait! -bows-

**Twinchester Angel**, So glad I didn't scare you off, then! xD As for the Dodge Charger...no real significance, other than the fact I think those cars are just sexy. Heh. I have a car fetish. The fact that Sam had driven one had me go into drooling fangirl squeals. I don't mind questions, but some I just can't answer, because of -dun dun DUN- spoilers. I so love working with Sam and Dean as kids! Even if I am a total perv for my reasons thereof. -awkward glance- Even freakier and total off-subject, but, at the gym I go to, there was this kid that looked just like Colin Ford (plays young Sam). It was so creepy. And he was there with his older brother and I'm just like, "NYUUUU!" So awkward... Anyway! As for the show, this pass episode had me freaking out! If I wasn't squeeing and going nuts of Castiel, I was screaming and crying over Sam! So glad I was home alone when it was on, because I had a ten minute full-throttle screaming tantrum when it was over! And then how they ended it? ARGH! But they said season 7 is gonna end ini a cliff-hanger, so I KNOW there's something more they're doing with Castiel. But that made me cry! They finally find him and - and-! -dies- But I do love Lucifer. OMG. "He said shut up to me!" I think we ALL love that. xD I'm DYING for this show! It breaks my heart and makes me laugh all at once. It's so...disturbing, to be honest. I mean, it really is a disturbing show. And I love it. Okay! No more distractions! I shall let you read!

That's all for now, folks! So enjoy after the disclaimer!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Supernatural_, I'd be doing what Misha Collins said and making it a "gay-porn incest story with two brothers fucking the shit out of each other."

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><p><strong>6<strong>

**Meloncholy Requiem**

A scream echoed in the darkness.

Metal clanged as it made contact with cement.

Sweat glistened off of skin under a dim light as blood dripped down stark, gray walls.

A deep-pitted moan escaped from the oldest Winchester's throat as his fingers dug into the slick skin of another's thighs. Each thrust got harder and faster as he tried to garner a deeply wanted response from the body below him. He positioned himself at a different angle and turned just enough to get—

"Fuck! Dean—!" Sam's voice came out broken as one hand tried to grip the cement floor below him while the other gripped Dean's shoulder, bit nails digging into the flesh.

Dean leaned down, one hand on each side of Sam's head as he thrust in again, getting Sam to release another throated cry. Sam latched his forearm around the back of Dean's neck and shoulders before bringing his other arm to meet it, wrapping his arms around his brother.

His pants filled Dean's ears as he let out in a raspy whisper, "Fuck me, Dean"—he sucked in a breath—"I want you to fuck me…."

Catching his own breath, Dean returned the grip to Sam before his hand fumbled around trying to grab his face with his right hand. When it finally landed on the base of his jaw, Dean pulled back just enough where their foreheads were pressed together and his eyes stared along the line of Sam's nose. It took a moment between exasperated breaths, but he finally forced his mouth onto Sam's. Pulling away, he returned the grip from before. A sharp jab to his chest hit when Sam's raspy voice came out with,

"You have to wake up, Dean."

Dean shook his head, his grip tight around the other's shoulders. "No. It's not a dream," his voice was thick. "Don't make me, Sammy." His breath caught in his throat before it came out shaking. "I don't wanna wake up. Please don't make me wake up." He pulled back, shifting to hold Sam's face in both hands. "Let me stay, Sammy – just let me stay…."

o-o-o-o-o

Sunlight hit Dean in the face, flooding his vision with white.

Even with his closed eyes, he squinted before opening them to slits. What he was introduced to was a stream of light glaring in his face from a small opening in dark curtains over an apartment window. From reflex, he took his pillow and shoved it over his head. Lifting just enough of it to peer out, his eyes traced around the room; a clean apartment with clothes strung about the floor and a table by the bed with a metal lamp and other paraphernalia strewn about were the only things within his view. Releasing a groan, he turned, now facing the ceiling. Moving his head to look next to him, the only thing he saw was a vacant spot. The bed creaked as he propped himself up on his elbows, taking in the room around him.

Small and messy, but clean. The window that was mostly blanketed by curtains took up the entire wall, dark red curtains covering the wall was what gave it away. He listened for any evidence to show he was not alone in the apartment, but the only thing he heard was silence, other than a slight hum from an air conditioning unit. Laughter flooded into the area from the hallway, and he could hear female voices talking about getting food before going into work. He tossed the covers off of him, picked up his fallen jeans and slipped them back on as he kept looking around, searching for things he was not even sure of. His phone had fallen from the pocket of his jeans, so he made sure to grab it before looking around for his shirt, which was probably mixed in with the other bundles of clothes. He could not help but notice that not all of the clothes were female. Eyebrows rising in curiosity, he spotted his shirt at the foot of the bed and picked it up, shaking it out before slipping it on over his head – his jacket was on the floor by the door, which he made a mental note to snatch it before anything else.

Last night was much like a fuzzy memory; the only thing he could honestly recall was being at the bar. The rest of the night was blurry, as though a piece of film was layered over the images.

"_I can be anyone you want…._"

He stopped just as he picked up his jacket, furrowing his brows as he stared at the door, focusing on the memory. He could see the outline of the female, switching between her own form to Sam, but his mind quickly flashed to the dream. The conclusion he reached was that the dream and reality were getting confused and he rubbed his forehead from the throbbing pain the strain of remembering caused.

Recalling it had him think of his brother and his hands went to his jacket pockets, searching for his phone. Once his fingers grasped around it, he pulled it out and flipped it open: one missed call from Sam flashed onto the screen. The lack of a message hinted that it was not an emergency. Either way, he hit 'talk' to automatically dial the number and pressed it to his ear, as he put on his jacket; the other end rang and he had to shift holding it with his shoulders to gripping it as his jacket was pulled over both shoulders. Dean frowned when it continued ringing up until it reached voicemail. Much like his brother had done, he chose not to leave a message and closed it before shoving it back into its resting place in his pocket. Making sure he had his wallet, he checked around the room one last time before swinging the door open and walking out. It clicked locked once it was shut and a long, narrow hallway was in front of him with doors to other apartments running down it. Dark blue carpet with off-white painted walls matched the lights in the ceiling and halfway down the hallway it opened up to a stairwell with a white rail running down it. When he got to it, he was able to see to the bottom floor, showing he was three floors up. The girls from before were seen laughing at the bottom before disappearing under the overhang to the first floor.

His head was facing the stairs as he made the descent to the bottom floor. Sunlight was coming in through the large Victorian-styled windows on the main wall next to white double doors in the small lobby. There was nothing else, other than a small table with a vase of flowers and a small lamp set on it. Some good news was that, when he stepped outside, the area was a familiar area that they had passed in the Impala at one point or another, and he was only a few blocks from the motel.

o-o-o-o-o

"Hey, Sam, I brought food."

He shut the motel door and set the generic plastic bag on the table before slipping out of his jacket. When he did not hear a response, he traced his eyes over to Sam, who was lying on the bed on his stomach with his arms shoved under the pillow. A frown tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth, followed by a shake of the head. "Come on," he said as he walked to the edge of the bed and hit Sam with the palm of his hand between the shoulder blades, making his brother jerk. "Up'n at'em, Sleeping Beauty."

Groggy-eyed, Sam lifted his head and squinted up at Dean, and then groaned and fell back onto the pillow. "You have fun?" Sam asked, voice somewhat muffled.

Dean shrugged, even though Sam was not looking at him. "Eh." Sam kicked his legs out, stretching them out on the bed as his back and shoulders tensed up. For some reason, Dean found himself clamping down on his jaw and trying to untighten his chest as his mind drifted to familiar dream sequences. "I must have passed out or something, 'cause I don't remember a thing." The lie felt like sand gritting against his teeth.

A grunt came out of Sam's throat as a response. He shifted again, this time pushing himself up on his forearms before turning his head to look at his brother; his hair was matted to his forehead and side of his face, his eyes sheepish. "You walk?"

"No, I flew my invisible plane; you know, the one I jacked from Wonder Woman." Sam frowned and fell back before moving on his side to sit up. "Anyway, we've got food." The other's eyes traced to the bag and nodded, right before he set his hands on his knees and ran both hands through his hair. Dean's forehead creased from pressing his eyebrows together. "You good?" He watched his brother nod his head, then turn his head to look up at him.

"Fine." His head shook again at Dean's expression, showing disbelieving concern. "Seriously, it's nothing." He sat straight, stretching out his back as he stood up. "You ready to get out of here, yet?"

At the change, Dean appeared mildly surprised. "What? You mean like right now?" Sam shrugged and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. Dean took it as it meant. Before he answered, an image of Sam's form riding him flashed across his mind. Heart racing, he kept his face impassive. "Instead of shooting off in the dark, either call Bobby or find us a job, then we'll head off." When he saw Sam's expression, he followed up with, "One more day off isn't gonna kill us, Sam. Besides"—he took off his shirt as he began walking to the bathroom—"heard about this thing goin' on outside of town – figured we'd check it out."

The reaction from Sam was silence. The small glimmer of hope he had that Dean was not referring to what Beni had told him earlier quickly died when he noted that, in a small town, it was unlikely two similar things were going on at the same time. Throw that in with the fact that neither one of them were ever interested in nightlife clubbing unless it had something to deal with tracking down a demon or creature and it made for a rather queer suggestion for he and Dean to take part in it.

"I don't know." He heard the shower turn on right before Dean poked his head out of the doorway, looking at him curiously. "Not really my thing. Didn't really think it was much yours, either."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, might as well have some fun once in a while." He ducked back inside. "You're gonna go, right?"

A sigh escaped from Sam's lips and he shook his head, despite not being able to be seen. "Wasn't planning on it," he muttered, voice drowned out by the running shower. Dean said something, which was also drowned out before he shut the door to the bathroom, clicking it shut. He found his way over to the bag of food, which he sifted through to find an already half-eaten bagel and prepackaged breakfast sandwich. He took out the latter and popped the plastic box open, but, despite stomach rolling in hunger, he was not much in the mood to eat. It skidded across the table as he shoved it away. Another release of breath and he grabbed the laptop that sat on one of the bags on its charger. If a case was what Dean needed to get out of there, then he was damned to find one.

He moved back to the table with the laptop and plugged in the password once the screen came up. Last thing on his mind was to find cases in the surrounding area, so he began checking news articles of towns and areas more than a state away. Nothing really caught his eye. A homicide a few towns over, a suicide in some town in Wisconsin, thievery at a pawn shop in Oakland, another suicide in a small town in Wisconsin. He scanned through a few more articles, and when multiple articles were suicide-related in the same town, he focused solely on that town. In the newspaper for the area, there had been an article dated yesterday that commented on the multiple suicides in a short time span, calling it a likely cult organization. It could have been left at that, but it was not so much the increase of suicides that made it odd, but how those committing it were going about it. Unless _The Happening_ was actually happening, it was most likely demonic activity.

Twenty minutes after stumbling upon the news articles and he finally heard the water shut off, meaning two things: Dean was out of the shower and there was no hot water left: the sign in the lobby of the motel had even pointed stated to limit shower times to ten minutes, because the hot water heater was malfunctioning. A few minutes of rustling around and the bathroom door opened. Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Dean stepping out with a towel around his waist and drying his hair with one of the smaller hand towels. He motioned to the computer with his head.

"What's that?" he referred to what was on the screen.

Sam looked back to it and shrugged. "High suicide rates in Wisconsin." He heard Dean make a noise from his throat in mild curiosity. "Apparently, teens in the high schools have been offing themselves, but this is what's weird"—he scrolled down the page of one of the articles as Dean came up behind him to peer over his shoulder at the laptop screen—"look how these kids are doing it."

Dean's eyes ran down the page, face showing surprise. "Dug a steak knife into his neck? Seems a bit extreme."

"Yeah, and here you've got a girl that took her hairpins and jammed them through her temples." He turned back to look at his brother. "I say we check it out; obvious something's there."

Dean pursed his lips together and nodded. "Yeah, all right. We can…head out tomorrow morning."

A frown fell on Sam's face as he turned back to the screen.

That was not quite the response he was looking for.

"Something like this?" he asked as Dean moved away from him to get dressed. "Why not head out today?"

"It's not like whatever's there is going to just up and leave, Sam," his voice bounced out of the bathroom. Sam could hear the sound of a belt buckle and he shook his head. "We'll just kick back and have one last night of fun, then head out in the morning."

Sam rubbed his face with his hands in aggravation before setting his elbows on the table, shutting the laptop and pushing it away. When Dean came back out of the bathroom, now wearing jeans and holding a dark blue shirt, he sent an inquisitive look in Sam's direction. "Everything okay?" Sam dropped his arms, nodding. The older hunter's sight fell on the plastic box, so when Sam did not respond, he commented on it, instead. "Eat already?"

"What?" He glanced to Dean, who nodded to the food, having Sam follow his gaze. "Oh, uh, yeah. Grabbed something this morning."

The look to cover Dean's face was a skeptical one, but he did not bother to press the matter or let Sam see the expression he was giving him.

o-o-o-o-o

A small, rundown diner right on the outskirts of town was where the boys found themselves late that afternoon, the Impala pulling into the small parking lot and parking right under the sign showing neon letters of the name of the diner. Once the car was shut off and they stepped out, Dean adjusted his jacket and Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his own as they walked around the car to go into the building. The inside was brightly lit and felt like a Denny's on Christmas—

Sam's eyebrows pressed together.

It seemed strangely familiar, but when he shot to Dean, his brother did not seem to pick up on it and, instead, knocked his hand into Sam's chest and motioned to an empty booth against the middle window. They passed by full booths and the entire bar area was nearly full with people taking up all but two of the stools. Two-page laminated menus were tucked behind the condiment holder against the wall and, sitting down, the feeling of déjà vu did not fade in the slightest. When Dean was looking over the menu, he flipped to the second page, and then looked to Sam. "Dude, check out the back." Sam turned it over to see a list of assorted desserts, mainly pies. A look of slight annoyance to Dean and his older brother grinned, then turned back to the menu. Instead of looking over the menu as Dean was doing, Sam was too busy taking in everything around them: from the metal window frames to the red stools at the bar, it all appeared reminiscent of a past diner. Granted, many diners had similar feels, but something about this one in particular had a feel about it, which he could not place.

His peripheral vision caught movement approaching their table and he looked over to see a young brunette walking to them. Just as with the diner itself, something about her appearance felt familiar.

Once she was at the table, she had a very passive-aggressive demeanor, judging by her body language. "You all doin' all right this afternoon?" She took out her pen and pad from her server's apron.

Sam responded with a quick "yeah," while Dean glanced up from his menu. "Better, now."

Her eye roll was blatant, which had Sam snicker. "So you know what you want or what?" Her uncaring attitude was more than likely due to getting hit on time and time again by male customers; at least that was the speculation.

"Coffee," Sam responded and, after a quick glance to Dean, his signaled for two.

A nod was all he received in response. "You need a minute?" Sam's eyes were focused on Dean as he started to shake his head, but Dean held up his hand, eyes not ever moving from the laminated sheet.

"Let me ask you a question: you recommend anything?"

She looked over him to see him scanning through the dessert menu, and then shrugged. "Depends what you like. I'm assuming you're referring to the pies." His nod confirmed her assumption. "If you're a chocolate-person, go for the Black Mousse; there's over an inch of black chocolate mousse under a layer of whipped cream and the crust is made from Oreos. We do have a banana mousse pie, but no way in hell'd I recommend that. It looks like caramelized urine." Sam snorted a laugh and Dean made a face, followed by a smirk as he finally looked back up to her. "Got a Boston Cream pie that's pretty decent. If you've ever had a real one, though, avoid it. You like mint, we have a Grasshopper. Same crust used in the Black Mousse and the whipped cream's mint flavoured, too."

Dean lightly banged his fist on the table, then snapped a pointed finger. "Say no more."

She began writing it down on the pad. "Grasshopper, then. What are you getting?"

"I'll just do a Caesar."

Another nod as she jotted it down. "Trying to watch your waistline or something?" She sent him a smirk over her pad, catching his nervous and slightly sarcastic exhale. "Be back with your all's coffee," she finished as she shoved her items back into her short apron and moved away from their table.

Dean's neck was turned back, watching her, before bringing his gaze to Sam. "Well, isn't she just lovely?"

"I kinda like her." When Sam sent a grin to him, Dean sneered and mocked a laugh.

"Ah-ha. Bite me. Oh, wait. That might be kind of fun." Dean reclaimed his expression when Sam's dropped and he tried to appear impassive; his awkward breath and slight flush gave it away. A slight kick to Sam's legs from under the table with a wink had his younger brother shift uncomfortably.

Sam put his menu back between the condiment holder and the wall; his brother was quick to do the same. "Dude, you're gonna get fat."

The expression dropped from Dean's face and he pulled back, looking down at himself, hands touching his chest. He paused, head facing opposite the window, as though thinking. Finally, he turned back to face Sam and leaned on the table with his forearms. "Is that why you won't sleep with me?"

Sam suddenly sat straight, forehead creasing. "What?"

At his reaction, Dean appeared confused. "What'd I say?" Still, Sam just continued to stare at him in shock.

Sam shook his head. "What _did_ you just say?"

Raised eyebrows followed with, "I said, "Awe, Sammy's so concerned about me." What did you think I said?"

Sam shook his head. "Nothing, never mind."

It did not stop Dean's inquisitive look, but what kept him from asking was their server coming up to the table with their coffees. As she set them on the table, she looked between the boys, raising one eyebrow. "Either I just interrupted something important or I have really good timing." He gaze quickly shot to Sam, who was unaware her eyes were on him when he exhaled a breath of relief. "Anyway"—she pulled back—"your all's food is almost ready."

"Thanks," Sam said, and Dean nodded in agreement. She walked away from the table.

When she had said their food was almost ready, she had not been joking. Perhaps a minute later, maybe a little longer, she was returning back to their table holding both dishes. Of course, it was not as though it took a long time to take a slice of pie from a fridge and shake some lettuce in a bag of Caesar dressing and toss some croutons and cheese on it. Another cold shoulder to Dean and wink to Sam had Dean frowning and Sam chuckling once she was gone, again.

Other than Dean have an orgasm over the pie and telling about his oral orgasm to Sam, they did not talk much; that was until the suicides in the upper state came up, but even most of the conversation was one-sided. Dean did not seem bent on picking it up, whereas Sam was just ready to get the hell out of the place they were; which made him question why his brother wanted to stay longer. When Dean no longer put in any commentary to the discussion, Sam sighed and began flipping over pieces of lettuce. By the time the older Winchester was finished, the other had barely made an indent in his, mind too focused on other things – the last thing on his mind was food.

Dean tossed his napkin on his plate and shoved it off the side, leaning fully on the table and nodded to the full plate, garnering a shrug. "Wasn't that hungry," Sam said in response to the look. He sat back and pushed the plate away.

Dean just raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. "Whatever you say, Sam." He turned his upper body and signaled their server before turning back to Sam. "Grab the ticket, all right? Nature calls." He moved and shifted himself out of the booth. Sam watched him disappear down a small hall at the opposite end near a jukebox. Still keeping his position, he set his arms on the table, picking at his nails just as their server came back. He slid his hands onto his lap as she motioned to the plates.

"Finished already?"

A breath from his nose followed with, "Yeah."

She flipped the tray she was holding under her arm and took out her pad. "What? Not hungry?" she asked in reference to Sam's plate; he shrugged in response, which had her shake her head. "You must be nervous about something."

"Yeah, guess you could say that." His eyes darted to her as she took her pen out and faced the pad. "You all are pretty busy for the location."

"Ah, college kids. Only time we're actually busy." She smirked when she heard a slight chuckle from the seated male. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you and your partner been together?" she asked, eyes quickly looking over her pad to Sam.

Her expression became vague when she saw the aback look on his face. "Uh, we're brothers." There went the slightest bit of comfort he had been feeling.

Her eyes fell back onto her pad as her shoulders hunched up in a gesticulation. "Doesn't matter. You can't help who you fall in love with, you know? I'm going to bet that you two have been mistaken as a couple more than once, am I right?" She glanced up to see Sam advert his gaze. "See? Figured." She studied him for a moment before following out with, "Hope you don't think me too rude for prying, but, by the way you're acting, I'm going to say that either he doesn't know or you two tip-toe around it because you _are_ brothers. Hm…I hit the nail on the head with that one, didn't I?" A quick glance to her had her nodding as she shut her pad and shoved it back in her apron after ripping out the ticket. Her hand lingered on the table over the ticket as she set it down. "I have a knack for making people feel uncomfortable." She winked at him as the corner of his mouth twitched. "Just pay at the front, okay, Sam?"

Her hand fell off the table as she took it back and moved away, making sure to take the discarded plates with her. Sam grabbed the ticket and moved to get up and go to the counter, but not before tossing a five dollar bill on the table. As he stood waiting for someone to come up, his eyes scanned the diner, but he could not seem to find her again, giving raise that she was probably in the back. A woman cleared her throat when Sam zoned out and he shook his head, apologized and handed her the ticket. She logged it into the cash register and did not even have to say the amount before Sam paid her with a ten and left the building to wait outside for his brother. His mind kept drifting to what had seemed so off. As he kept trying to place it, his eyebrows knitted together.

How did she know his name?

"I said get the ticket, not ditch me," Dean's voice came out as the door to the diner opened and his brother came down the three steps. He ran his shoulder into Sam's. "What's wrong?"

Forcing his expression, he shook his head. "Nothing."

The response was curious, but Dean merely shrugged, nonetheless, and reached in his pocket for the keys. As they stepped around to the car, and Dean had already crawled inside, Sam stood staring at the diner with the car door open and arms on the roof.

The familiarity was going drive him mad.

* * *

><p>So many breaks in this chapter. But, for good reason. I doubt you all wanna read about how Sam and Dean just watch TV at the motel before Dean passes out on the bed as Sam just does more computer research.<p>

Lol.

Chapter 7 shouldn't take so long! ...I hope.


	7. Devil's Laughter

So this is an extremely short chapter given my long hiatus, for which I do apologize. I haven't been in the mood to work on my fics, lately. I've been so wrapped up in trying to get my book finished so it can get published, I've abandoned all of my fics.

I'm even considering slapping a "COMPLETE" on _My Bloody Valentine: A True Story_ just so I don't have to do the last chapter. Where my muse has gone, I have no idea. I've just been really dead, lately. I'm graduating in a few weeks from college and still trying to get a job relating to my field, been filling out applications nationwide, even Overseas. So I've been a little preoccupied with where I'm going in life (le sigh). Not that you all care about that, but I figured it would kinda justify my lack of updating.

**Viviane Renard**, I loved reading your review. I've been nervous that I wasn't getting my hints across and that I wasn't writing them in a way that made them known to the readers. So reading you say how you picked up on that made me insanely happy. I'm hoping that the changes in Dean are gradual enough without going OOC, but reflect more on what's really happening (does that make sense?). Anyway. If you're still around, I apologize for the insanely long wait.

**SPN Mum**, I hope I didn't lose you, too! You've been with me for a while (even since the first _Baited_) and it's the long-lasting readers that I hate to keep waiting. Especially since the first part moved rather quickly as opposed to this one. (nervous laugh) Now...if only Sam would tell Dean what's going on in his head, right?

**MissReader_,_**thank you for letting me know I'm tripping you up! (laughs) With everyone always focusing more on Dean in stories and what's going on in his head, I love Sam's psyche and working with its fragility! **christinebleu**, glad I have you tripping out. (laughs) And OMG! SOMEONE WHO CAUGHT ONTO THE DINER. (clears throat) Sorry. That was a big thing that I don't think many people got. (laughs) Hope you're still around! And to **sami1010220**, things are happening with the brothers and the plot, but it's very subtle. If everything happened all at once, I wouldn't really have a story. (laughs) I work more with the human brain than with straight action sequences because I'm fascinated with how it functions. The games it plays on our eyes, the tricks it makes with our ears - it's so interesting. So, yeah. There are things - big things, even - happening. You just gotta pick up on them. (laughs)

Enjoy after the disclaimer, folks!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned _Supernatural_, there would be a lot more torture - mentally and physically. (snickers)

* * *

><p><strong>7<strong>

**Devil****'****s Laughter**

Sam sat on the curb of the street, his elbows sitting on his bent knees as he blindly watched people argue across the street. Another argument with John and he had left the motel, refusing to return until after their dad left for another hunt he claimed would only be a few days. There had been so much tension; he just could not look his father in the face without becoming upset. With the way he was feeling, even seeing his brother was building anger within him. For once, it would have been nice to have Dean on his side, instead of either taking his dad's side or not getting involved at all. Perhaps that was truly why he had become infuriated, even more than usual: Dean had attacked him along with his father, leaving the fifteen-year-old with no ground to stand on. The only time Dean ever seemed to support him was when John was out of the picture, much to his dismay.

The woman that was arguing with the man across the street slapped him across the face before storming into the opened front door. The man was about to go after her, until a toolkit flew out of the door and hit him in the chest. It was followed by more items being thrown at him, including a suitcase, clothes, books, CDs and videos amongst other paraphernalia. One of the CDs whizzed like a Frisbee and broke next to Sam, who decided to move before he was hit in the crossfire. He could still hear things crashing and the man calling the woman obscenities while tossing in an apology between throws as he made his way down the street away from the trailer park, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. He questioned how much longer he would have to wait until he could be sure John was gone. It was dusk and by the time he would get back, it would probably be well into the night. Yet, the more he walked around, the more he wondered if Dean would end up going with him, leaving Sam alone, once again. Sometimes, he did not mind; but the last time both his father and his brother left, their few days turned into a week and a half.

He stopped outside a rundown apartment complex and cast his eyes upwards. Graffiti layered the outside of the building, but open windows with curtains proved that it was still occupied. A white cat perched in the window on the fourth floor jumped to a low-hanging tree branch before climbing down and landing onto the ground. It crossed the street and sat down in front of Sam, staring up at him. It blinked, eyes halfway closed. He crouched down, but when he went to pet it, its demeanor quickly changed and it bit down on his hand, and then ran back towards the apartments, vanishing around the corner. He pulled his hand back, looked at the puncture marks and wiped the small droplets of blood onto his shirt. There was a slight pain and he glanced back down at it, holding his right hand with his left hand, staring at the marks; he wiped the blood droplets that reformed with his thumb, smearing it across his skin. His head pulled up, searching for the cat, but it was most-likely long gone. His gaze followed to the window the cat had come from and pressed his eyebrows together when he saw a woman staring out of the window at him, holding the cat. She shut the curtains, obstructing his view.

Hunter's intuition kicking in, he debated whether or not to check it out or leave it be.

He felt a headache form behind his eyes and he shook his head before crossing the street to the front of the complex and walking up the stoop. The keypad for the door was busted, so the door opened without having to be unlocked. The entryway was merely part of a narrow hallway; the painted walls were chipping away and cracks ran across the ceiling; the carpet on the stairs was worn and tattered, pulling up in the corners and the handles running up the wall were rotting and ready to fall from the nails that held them. He avoided touching them as he made his way up the stairs, his hand gripping the bowing knife in his jacket pocket. On the second floor, he could hear a television through one of the apartment room doors, the sound faded into the background as he rounded the corner to go up two more floors. There was a six-paned window on the fourth floor; the glass was clouded over with years of dust build up and a few of the panes had cracks like spider webbing. Like the other floors, there were only two doors, one on each end of the hall – one at the top of the stairs and the other at the bottom. The room Sam was by had its door completely opened and, when he peered into it, he noticed it was completely vacant. The old wooden floor seemed to be rotting and, just like the rest of the apartment complex, cracks ran up and down the walls and ceiling.

A creaking sound from the opposite room drew his attention and he looked just in time to see the door slowly crack open. A quick glance back to the vacant apartment was given before he cautiously walking to the other apartment, grip tightening around the weapon. He stood outside for a moment, listening for movement behind the door. When he did not hear anything, he pressed his shoulder against the door, slowly pushing it open and looking in.

It was dark, all the lights having been off, but he could see, what looked like the flicker of candle light coming from the room straight ahead. Looking back to make sure there was no one around, he slipped inside. Stepping toe-heel down the hall to avoid creaking, he heard the door shut behind him and he jumped, glancing over his shoulder at the now-closed door. Chest pounding, he pulled the knife from its hiding spot and held it next to him, continuing down the hall. When he entered the room with the flickering lights, it was coming from candles that were lighting the room; there were red and black candles lit on the mantle of the turned on fireplace and, even stranger, lit candles on an altar. The entire room was decorated with Satanic paraphernalia. A large pentagram was drawn in red on the wall above the fireplace; dried drops of the red had dripped down the wall, giving the notion that it had been created in blood. Pieces of carcasses from animals were on strings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and ceiling and, on the altar was a dead raven, its mouth open. Glancing back behind him for the woman he had seen, he stepped up to the altar, looking at the items.

A brass bowl with black liquid was in the center of the table with pouches of powders and herbs laid next to it. A leather-bound book was opened to a page on the extraction of life essence. He ran his hand down the page, reading over it. "What the—"

"It's rude to enter someone's home uninvited."

Sam spun around to see the woman from before; her disheveled appearance came as somewhat of a shock, looking as though she stepped out of an apocalyptic film: long gray hair was matted with dirt and soot, attire baggy and ripped.

Sam held the blade out in front of him and the woman appeared intrigued.

"What is all this?" he demanded, voice firm as he quickly motioned to the altar with his head. The moment he jerked his neck, the headache shot through his skull. "What are you?"

The woman laughed. "Curious, aren't we? I guess you can't help it; such a young, questioning age."

Sam swallowed, opposite hand holding the altar for balance as the pain radiating down his neck. He caught movement at the woman's feet and quickly glanced down to see the white cat walk and sit next to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked with odd sincerity. "Not feeling well?" She smiled and looked at the cat as Sam shook his head and pressed his wrist to his forehead. "She has a knack for picking out hunters that get a little too curious, doesn't she?"

Sam squinted, the scene around him beginning to blur. He held the knife back out in front of him, trying to keep stable. "What did you do to me?"

Slowly, the woman brought her gaze to him, looking at him softly. "We have to protect ourselves. But I will say, you're awfully young for a hunter," she said, watching Sam with an amused look on her face. He shook his head again, blood pounding against his skull as the lights seemed to close in around him. He stepped back, swaying as he tried to keep the knife tight in his hand. "I almost feel regretful you have to die so young." The room started spinning and he stumbled backwards, falling into the altar and scattering items around him. He groped around for balance, hand landing on the book. "But, don't worry. Your blood will be put to good use." Keeping his spinning gaze locked onto her, he slowly gripped his hand around the cover of the book. "So young…so…fresh."

"Others will come looking for me," he said, trying not to stutter from his numbing tongue. "If something happens, you won't live to see another day."

She laughed, failing to see Sam moving the book off the table. "Would you like to tell me how they'll find you without this?" She held up his cellphone, which had been completely smashed and ruined. Sam bit down on his jaw; there went his plan for calling Dean. Though, how she acquired it he would have liked to have known. "The naivety of the young is so comical. I've lived many days, and you're a foolish child to think otherwise."

Sam shook his head and she watched him, as though a predator watching prey. "I may be young, but the young aren't as foolish as you seem to think." He held up the book and her calm expression dropped, eyes beginning to show anger. "Maybe you should think to hide your life, instead of laying it out."

In only a jerk of the hand, he pitched it into the burning fireplace.

"No!" she shrieked as he nearly threw herself to the fireplace; but the book was covered by the flames. She jerked her head to Sam, eyes mere slits and face contorted into rage. "You!" She lunged at Sam, tackling him to the ground. They struggled on the floor, Sam trying to pull his wrist away from her grip to gain free the knife. In the midst of the struggle, however, she suddenly stopped, her eyes going wide as she stared down at him in shock. Sam stared back, unmoving as her mouth fell open and lines began forming in her face. He tried to gain a view of the book in the fire – it was curling under the flames, turning to gray ash. His attention was pulled back to the woman, her skin graying over, turning to ash like the book. Everything sunk in and the nearly-skeletal figure collapsed onto him.

With a groan, he shoved the corpse off of him and sat up, panting. Giving it only a moment, he staggered to his feet, head still spinning. Heart feeling as though it was moving a mile-a-minute, he moved to leave the apartment. Once he got back, he would tell Dean and get his help in covering it up. His hand traced the wall as he left the apartment. As he headed down the stairs, they began to swirl and he felt as though he was experiencing vertigo. With the experience, the will to make it out of the building and back to the motel became stronger; if he could just make it back. He released a gasp and quickly followed it with a deep inhale after he pushed the door open and made it outside onto the stoop. His legs began growing numb and he had to force them to move across the lawn and used the wall of the building as support to keep from falling. Breathing was getting more difficult with each breath and everything within his vision was melting together.

The last thing he remembered was his back hitting against the wall to an attached building before everything fell black and he sunk into a black abyss.

-o-o-o-

The Impala crunched on familiar gravel as it pulled into the bar's parking lot. Dusk outside gave reason as to why few cars were in the lot: it was not late enough for people to begin filling the building, yet. Right by the front of the building sat the familiar Charger and black Optima with four familiar faces and bodies sitting on the Charger and standing around it. Sam had barely spoken to Dean since they got in the car, making it quite apparent that he was against their actions, but Dean continued to tell him to "lighten up" and "have some fun." Shortly after they left the motel, Sam was regretting not just staying back, but, at the same time, he felt apprehensive at leaving his brother alone with these people. As innocent as they appeared, there was a feeling he could not shake. That with the fact he was unable to distinguish whether or not some of the comments actually came from them or his head and he was stuck jumping through hoops trying to decipher reality from fantasy.

The trees surrounding the lot moved strongly as a gust of wind blew as the car pulled up next to the Charger. After shutting off the engine and taking the keys out of the ignition, Dean turned to look at Sam, only to see his brother staring straight ahead, annoyance obvious on his face. He knocked his hand into Sam's chest. "C'mon, Sam. Can't have you moody all night." Without saying a word, Sam turned to him and gave a forced smile forming a thin line. "Ah, that's the spirit," he said, ignoring Sam's sarcasm, to which his brother's "smile" fell to a frown. Without another word, Dean pushed open his door and climbed out. Sam released a sigh and shook his head before following after his brother.

Dean walked around the car to his side, meeting, not only Sam, but the group that came to their arrival.

"Sweet, the party can finally start," Raphael said as he pushed himself up from his leaning position on the car.

Fleurety, who was standing next to Gai, traced her eyes to Dean, then Sam. "I see you convinced Sammy to join us." Dean looked to his brother and knocked his elbow into him. Sam merely forced a smile, adjusted his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets of it. "You seem excited," she said sarcastically.

"Thrilled."

Raphael was now standing next to him and took the opportunity to set his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't look so bummed, pretty boy. You're among friends." Sliding his hand off, he leaned in front of him to Dean. "Is he always like this?"

Dean laughed and mimicked Sam's stance. "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"It is Thursday." Raphael's face was overcome with confusion right before: "Oh, I get it." He jerked when a balled up sheet of paper hit him in the head. Pulling up, he shot a glare to Beni, whose face was impassive as he kept his pose; arms crossed over his chest and left foot pressed up against his car.

"Your stupidity is astounding." He smirked at Raphael's expression. "Stop hitting on the guy, would you? You're embarrassing." Raphael shook his head, sent a nervous grin to Sam and Dean, and then moved back to the side of the Charger. "I assume you two are just gonna follow us?"

"Yeah," Dean responded after a quick glance to his brother. "So how far out is this place?"

Raphael had abandoned his position next to Sam and went to stand by the front passenger seat of the other vehicle with his arms set on the roof. "What? Fifty-five miles?" he asked, looking to Gai, who was sitting on the car's hood; he nodded.

"Well, we're not gonna get anywhere just standing here," Raphael spoke up as he climbed into the Optima, which had the driver's side window down. "Let's move, guys…and Fleurety." She frowned and sneered at him, but abandoned her post and went to the passenger side of the Charger.

* * *

><p>Like I said: for as long as it took, this was an insanely short chapter. I actually had all of this done and was trying to add more to it. But, I realized, after going back through, that I can omit what I was going to do and go straight into something else - something I've been wanting to do.<p>

I don't think this is going to end up being as long as _Baited_. Not because it doesn't have the capacity, but because I'm going to try to get where I want so I don't drag it on too long. (laughs)

Hope you all are still out there! I'll try to update more frequently!

(I'll update a lot more frequently if I could just land a damn job relating to my field, so that stress would go away)


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